Y commented on her Facebook about an incident involving gas and accidentally getting some on herself. It reminded me of the drive to Houston when my dad died. I was alone. In a rental car. I stopped somewhere along the route to fill the tank. I’m going to cop to being really distracted, going to my dad’s funeral and all. Somehow it squirted back out the tank and all over my legs. Thankfully I was wearing jeans, but whoo, that was a long drive.

I’d taken a change of clothes with me, so I was able to take a shower before we needed to head into town. My brother was just building a house and the working bathroom was still in their trailer home. I remember as I took my shower, my nephew sat in the hall outside the door and talked to me. And talked. And talked. He was still pretty young and probably completely didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew he was trying to comfort me in his own way.

It still comforts me to remember.

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