Email To My Brother: Rubber-Bottomed Socks

Our father walked into the kitchen for breakfast and he was shaking in his rubber-bottomed socks.
     “I just had a HORRIBLE nightmare,” he told me, his voice trembling.
     “What is it, pop?” I asked him.
     I was honestly concerned.
     “I dreamt that your brother got the Caronavirus.”
     “And the horrible part was that he died?”
     “No, the horrible part was that he LIVED!”
  
  
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
  

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