đ Immediately after I wished Dad âHappy Birthdayâ while sitting alone on my porch, a single leaf slowly fell to the ground from the tree across from me. Â đ
I tried to see beauty in the symbolism.
But it doesnât take away the melancholy silence of the moment, knowing I wonât get a response.
Today is when I would take him out to breakfast at âour placeâ. Â
Just us, a father & daughter date.
I donât know why since Iâm almost 40, but every time the bill comes and I slide it toward me, I still feel a sense of pride as though itâs the first time. A sense of being able to say to my Dad, âIâve got youâ after all the times he took care of me.
I loved just being able to say, âOrder anything you want.â Â đ
He probably laughed inside knowing the bill was always around $35⊠but still.
Growing up, when we went out to eat, there was no order of appetizers, drinks or dessert. Just the Main meal (usually split) and dessert only on birthdays.
Opening the menu to be able to order *anything* feels special, and thatâs how I wanted him to feel.
On the weekend we would have gone out to dinner with about 15 family members at âour pizza placeâ. Â đ
Eating the same food we always love from a local mom nâ pop shop, sharing the same delicious dessert my mom would special order.
The kind where they bring it out and all our eyes get bigger. đ
The thing about special places is theyâre really fun when youâre with the person you share the memories with - but without them, itâs just not the same.
So I sit here on my porch, appreciative for what I have, for *who* I have⊠And quietly mourn the one I donât.  đ
