October 7, 2014
A mug and a mini-flashlight. That's all I got when my dad left this world. I wanted the custom-made psychedelic patchwork boots from the 1960s, but my mom gave them away to a thrift store, so someone who would never know the boots' history could think, "Cool!" and buy them. This decision leaves me bitter cold. The flashlight battery has just run out, but I'll hold on to it more tightly than my mother did the boots. My dad's fingers touched the battery, and although its energy has run out, I choose to believe it still contains some of his.