When he knew he was dying, family history became important to my father. Or maybe I just started listening, trapping his stories on tape so that I could later revisit them. Dad reminded me that the black lantern in my office was my great-grandfather’s, who used it to light the way to the barn. Dad told about his father deciding whether it was a payroll week or a grocery week. He gave me the recipe for milk toast. I often think of my father’s stories. And I think of the stories I lost like butterflies flitting away when Dad died.
This was written in response to the Hundred Word Challenge at Thin Spiral Notebook.