My friend’s father is dying
She’s been gone herself now 20 years.
I saw him yesterday on his front porch.
He lives in town.
His grand-kids were visiting.
I drove on by.
He was there, his hair askew; leaning on a walker.
It was a warm day.
He was wearing a t-shirt, pajama pants, and a robe.
I remembered my father.
I remembered my friend.
I remembered my mother and others; gone too soon.
My thoughts were all a jumble
Life is short.
We all are born and we all die.
What matters most is what we do in between.
This post is in response to the 100 word writing challenge from Velvet Verbosity where we are asked to write 100 words inspired by a single prompt. This week’s word is Jumble.