I missed you today in Dunkin Donuts, suddenly. My throat got thick and I focused through quick tears on the things that I can hold onto; The styrofoam coffee cups of your work van, the seat row filled with things that smelled like gasoline and sweat.
Putting our small suitcases into the back, packed with fresh disposable cameras and new Hanes underwear, excitedly planning the days of summer with you that stretched endlessly ahead on the road to the ocean.
Your newspaper on the dash and your patience.
Jillian Prendergast. Writer. 