On Our Morning Jog

I can't even remember why I was offended, but it caused me to quicken my steps in an attempt to get ahead of him so I didn't have to subject myself to his teasing.

I could never outrun my husband, even if I tried, but he allowed me to gain the lead, if only for a few yards. He laughed at my feeble, yet sincere, attempt to race ahead like a stubborn child, "You run just like your dad; short little legs and all! Remember the time he surprised us all by jumping over the creek? That's what you remind me of just now."

It slowed me almost to a stop. I smiled at that memory, too. But I was not prepared for the wave of sadness that appeared out of no-where and washed over me. "Oh, how I miss him," was my only response.

Wraps

Dad was always worried about us being warm enough. (Evidenced by the thermostat in the house set at 70* or higher!) "Dress warmly," he'd say. Which always confused me--and I was always trying to correct him--since I was already dressed for the day. He meant outer garments, or "wraps."

I chuckled at my husband when he called the sweatshirt a "wrap." It sounded foreign coming from him, but coming from my dad, I wouldn't even think twice.

Now Mom is left to chase after her warm-blooded grandkids trying to get them to wear "warmer wraps."