Remembering Dennis

Yesterday was a hard day. Dennis would have been 65. He has been gone two years and ten days. I remember the night he was born. I spent part of the afternoon scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and we had spaghetti for dinner. He was born just before midnight. I had never held a baby before, never changed a diaper or fixed a bottle. Love at first sight. Every once in a while his birthday would coincide with Father's Day.

He loved living in the desert or small towns. Him with his wind sailer. 

Senior picture day. He'd gone to school in overalls and a t shirt. Suddenly he was home again - changed clothes and fixed his hair for the picture. So many years ago. 

We miss him.