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  • The day after we had a big fight (the only fight I ever remember us having,) Dad took me for a long drive out into the country.

    We didn't talk much that day, and that was okay. We had talked too much the day before, so I think we were both thankful for the silence.

    We went to Lake Michigan where I picked up as many rocks as my pockets and hands would hold.
    I'm glad we had this time. Just me and Dad on a beach not yet overtaken by summer-time tourists.

    Every time I see my dad, there is never enough time to do all the things we want to do together. He told me this would be the case as he drove me to his house from my sister's. And again, as usual, he was right. There wasn't enough time.

    Not enough time to go fishing.
    Not enough time to watch the sunset at the lake.
    Not enough time to make homemade rhubarb pie.

    They say there's always next time. But that's a lie. There isn't always next time. Sometimes the last time is the last time.

    Next time (if God blesses us both with another,) I'll insist we start with rhubarb pie.
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