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1974.

Dirt bike. Sunshine. Camping.

I’m 2. He’s 32.

He’s squinting from the sun. I have a cheesy grin on my face. And oh dear god he’s wearing open-toed sandals on a motorcycle.

But look at me there. I look so small on that beast of a machine. But I also look brave and safe with my daddy near…

I wish he was near now.

Near enough to bring me in for a side hug.

Near enough to tell me I’m going to be okay.

Near enough to feel his kiss on my forehead.

But he’s not. And it sucks.

*

I miss you Dad.

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