• Livin in the Overflow

    It Doesn’t End Here

    I keep thinking of his beautiful silver hair. Baby soft, pure silver strands. How many times did I hesitate to reach my hand forward and brush them from his face? How many times did I pause, wondering if a man of strength and heroic nature like my Dad, would be offended if I ran my fingers through his hair to comfort him? But each time I did, he never seemed to mind. He seemed glad for it. And once I touched his hair, I always hesitated to stop. Dad’s silver hair was beautiful. I often thought of it as his crown of honor on this earth and I hoped one…