My father sat on his couch staring at his i-phone.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“I am reading your blog. I do this every night. It is how I know you are alive. When you don’t post for a couple of days I start to get worried.”
Somehow my father and I have got back to this place. He is who I have flocked to this weekend when I need a break from it all, when I need someone to make me feel loved.
We have fired guns and played board games and eaten the world’s most delicious homemade blackberry cobbler. The weather was perfect and the pace slow enough for the whole family to hit the reset button.
It was just what I needed.