Years ago I was helping friends close up their winter house in Sun City, Arizona. They were an older couple, seventy somethings and I was in my thirties. I loved her down to earth sophistication. She was wheelchair bound by then, due to her degenerative disease, and now her sharpness was going slower too. I helped her pack for the trip back east to their summer home, then I dropped her at the beauty shop to have her hair done. While she was chatting with the girls in the salon, I ran back to put up the lawn furniture and make sure the desert landscaped yard and patio were set to order or packed away in the garage. He was home working on the yard and prepping for the trip. After the yard was done and I was packing a few more things, Mr. made each of us a fried egg sandwich. I hadn’t had one of those since I was a kid. As we ate, he got out the financial section of the news paper and taught me about his investments. He talked stocks and yield. I remember wondering if that is what it felt like to have a dad. He was awesome. I still have the page of the news paper. It was a good day. I loved that day.
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