|This bad-boy is docked by my house.|
The only thing distinguishing Dad's beige home from the others on the street was a 'welcome to my home!' wooden sign that the widow had affixed to the front door. Dad would not have hung that sign, I found myself thinking as I pedaled by. I thought, too, about the garden that was left to wither after Dad died. I was reminded of Basil & Rathbone, Dad's two, small terriers that the widow had put down because she claimed she couldn't take care of them. I thought, too, how I doubt I'll ever go by this house again, an invite from the widow notwithstanding.