Papa had developed the habit of leaving things in random places long before I came along. It was one of the first things I learned about him. He would just smile and shake his head when things went missing. Then blame it on fairies or trolls. It wasn’t long before it became a game of sorts. Who can find the item fastest? Eventually, though, I outgrew the stories and the games. That’s when the habit turned into a pet peeve.
It’s why he nearly missed my high school graduation. “Left the keys in the cupboard again.”
It’s why he lost his wedding ring. Twice. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually.”
It’s why no one noticed his mind was gone until it was too late. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
I knew something bad had happened the day I found the boots. They were his favorite boots, the one thing he never ever lost, and there they were, sitting in the sand, empty and abandoned. I didn’t realize until later that they were pointing toward the ocean.
They found him a few days later. I made sure he was wearing the boots when they buried him.
I spoke at his funeral, and even though it hurt, there was one important thing I had to say about him. “Papa had developed the habit of leaving things in random places long before I came along”.
Thanks for reading! I randomly came across this picture on Unsplash a while ago, and I knew immediately that it had a story to tell. I didn’t expect that story to be so sad, but here we are.
Have an awesome rest of your week, and I’ll see you next Thursday with another story!
I am fond of such short stories. ❤
Very nicely done. ❤️