Looking out my window on Thanksgiving morning

As i stood over the sink and watched the squirrels and the birds, gazing at the branches now swaying gently in the breeze instead of bending over in the howl of yesterday, i thought to myself i need to remember to call my dad. Then it hit me that i couldn't. There was that moment, fleeting as it was, where he was there, in his apartment in Cleveland, cigarette and shit instant coffee, the television turned on after coming home from another graveyard shift. There was a moment when i was looking forward to our conversation... and then it was gone... and my mind settled back into the now. Then Stretch bounded down the steps hungry as usual and Disaster gave me a hug and said "Happy Thanksgiving, dad". I examined his recently busted up finger and kissed his head. Then i poured another cup of coffee and went back to that window.