My parents are gone, but I still have their things. A plate, a chair, a matchbook, a sweater, an old cell phone. Something of them lives on in this stuff. Send a picture of an object and tell me what it does to you and how it makes you feel about your mom and dad, dead or alive. Then go clean up your room. Thank you
My Dad drove a cab in Toronto for over 40 years. Despite the long hours, the occasional unsavory passenger and the limited income, he had an unwavering smile for everyone. I can’t help but wonder how many lives were brightened by this kind, gentle but mostly anonymous man in the front seat. When I look at his hat I remember all the times I’d be getting up early to walk to school and Dad was in the kitchen after driving all night, having a snack before going to bed. His hat represents to me all the sacrifices he made for his family. He was a good man.