He has got a big old green duffel bag over his shoulder, a black hat a
top his head, a cigarette in one hand and cold beer in the other, he turns
back grins his goofy grin, bottom lip to nose and stomps away in his
favorite cowboy boots and broken in Levi's. He is skinny again with his
sun soaked skin and gray beard, his muscled arms swinging with his stride.
He is my Dad again ready to head where ever the wind blows him leaving
his broken body behind, but taking his healthy soul on down the road.
-Heather Stott
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