Cranky Complaints-Lady Buys BOOKS! (or tries to)

Men who look like my father

I still look at men with trimmed grey beards, especially thin men with beards and windbreakers and sunhats and gloves and knapsacks on bicycles.  I know, I know, I know it’s not him, but I have to look… EVERY SINGLE TIME.  Follow them with my eyes down the street; just in case.

There are a lot of them out there.

When I hear a bike bell on the street, I still turn around, thinking he’s pulling into the driveway.  I’ve just put the kids down for their nap, he’s just on his way home from work.  Time for a chat, no matter what I had planned to do during my free time while the kids rest.

I don’t kick myself for these things.  It’ll stop when it stops.  Maybe soon, maybe never:  I’m okay with either way.