Deep Thoughts

The sky was sobbing as I drove home from work.

As I sat in traffic, I called my father. I hadn’t talked to him in long a while.

I also called my brother.

My mother died eighteen years ago today.

He was just a kid. Sixteen years old.

She was fifty years young.

It was good to talk to him. We chatted about work. About our father. About my children. About his apartment.

I told him I loved him and that he can talk to me about anything. Big or small.

He knows that. I hope he does.

And then my throat started to tighten and my eyes became watery.

I let myself cry while the sky showed me the way home.