air.

early this morning i went out for my run, which is actually a very fast walk accompanied by short bursts of jogging. i took to the streets of my old home town and set my ipod to shuffle.

mumford and sons came on first, which set me to crying, which isn't very conducive to exercising. but i was sorta grateful for the chance, to be honest.

i miss my pa.

the humidity took care of me, wrapped me up good and tight, but there were still some moments of coolness lingering in the air, and i gulped them up like my favorite tap water. i knew the day would turn hot again but for that moment i was so happy to feel that sweet shiver on my skin.

i loved seeing the oak leaves under my sneakers as i ran.

my pa's wake is tomorrow afternoon and funeral is on monday morning. my cousin benjamin is giving the eulogy and i'm saying something as well, although as of this moment i'm not sure what.
i know that i will need to be respectful of my surroundings (ie, church) and so therefore i may find someone else's words to help me along. maybe not, though.

i keep thinking about pa's last moments, and how i inhaled and exhaled and he inhaled and he exhaled and we shared the air together for one last time.

i keep thinking about when i was seven or so and we were walking across his back yard to his neighbor parky's pool where he waited for us and my mom said something sarcastic to him across the way and in response he gave his drink to his friend, reached down in the water and took off his swim trunks and held them all up for us to see. my mom said, "run!" and for some crazy reason we all took off hoping (fearing?) to catch pa with his suit off and he panicked and tried to get them back on as fast as he could but he lost his balance and fell back into the pool as his friend laughed hard with two drinks in his hand.

i keep thinking about playing solitaire, and how he taught me three different ways to play, and how he always said, "another ace, ma!" to my grammie when he was playing at his house.

i keep thinking about his inevitable scratchy stubble on his face when i saw him, and the smell of his cigar, which i always hated but now am nostalgic for, and how he called me "haw-haw".

i keep thinking about the night before he died; how i sat with my cousins and we told stories and i learned things about him that i never knew. i like to think of him having this life i never knew about. i like to think that he had secrets and layers that were just his, because it makes him more like me.

i keep thinking about him. which is what my job is now. this is what i do. i tell stories and reminisce and try and feel him around me as best as i can.