i just read the obituary of a friend's dad
this friend and i shared childhood together.
the real childhood....the neighborhood stuff.
the pretending and playing and singing and
growin' up. the early stuff...
i remember him singing a cigarette jingle
in my friend's garage. i can still see him
i remember him having a baked potato for dinner
and being stunned that he was allowed to just
have that....how cool that was to me.
we knew each other from when we were six
years old. i'd been in house, knew his parents,
and hung out with him.
and when i read his father's obituary, i was
stunned. i didn't know any of the stuff in there.
not any of it.
well, of course you didn't, terri.
you were a kid.
what were you gonna say? tell me your life story?
okay. so there's no beating up on myself about that.
of course i didn't know.
but what it makes me think of is all the life stories
that surround me now that are waiting for me to
hear and listen to....
how many do i really know?
time to listen, i think.....