I found him in the study…moving books around as if he was the head librarian.
“Father,” I said.
“Yes'” he said as he stepped out from behind the ladder.
My father was my guiding force through my youth though I never told him how I felt. Now, I can’t. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything but this library. It’s strange how disease can take a man’s family away from him yet he can read, understand and be intelligently vibrant. This library is his life now. His family he has long forgot. I take care of him. This is his study in my home.
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There is more to this..at least it feels like it. Sometimes…the story is not nearly complete but I hope that someone feels something from what is here. I didn’t want to change what was here just to keep it in the word limitation. I like what is here. I don’t know why. I just do.
Till we meet again.
Mind of Shoo