What a beautiful site:

He sat in tanned clothing, He was as handsome as can be with a clean shavened face. He wore the same paint stained watch I remembered as a child. Eloquent in an unfamiliar sitting position as he spoke of an intellectual topic. I gawked and took in every inch of his essence. His face, his shoulders, his eyes. Everything.

My own father sitting beside him in silence, as if briefed prior to their visit.

I stumbled as I searched for a camera, but those who snapped a quick pic, found him to be obsolete. Not here nor there.

He was a blur of a beautiful memory engraved in my soul, yet here he stood in my reality.

Our guardian angel.

A piece of my reality.

A bit of our ancestary.

My Papa.


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