Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it is because the Bears lost their second game in a row. Maybe it’s the beer I had Friday night or the margarita I had with Saturday dinner. Maybe it’s because my day got off to a horrible start or I didn’t do my longer run or because I didn’t get to enjoy my mom’s cooking for the umpteenth week or because it was very windy all day.
Or, despite the hours of therapy, reflection, and prayer, and my gradual acceptance of the harsh reality of his rejection, I still miss him.
“Sad hours seem long.”