Upon one of Dads short visits, he borrowed Uncle Gilbert’s car and managed to scrape up enough money to take us to Friendly’s for a soda. It was the first time he picked us up at 56 Park Street. He was driving bare foot and his feet were dirty and enormous. His hair was a bit of a mess and was blowing in the breeze. His was wearing a thin cotton shirt that was untucked and the last button undone, faded jeans…. big long, strong legs. A pipe sticking out of his mouth. He was a site to see…. and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I stared at every bit of him. His hands, his face, his whole body slouched a bit in the seat. I thought he was the most fabulous looking being on earth.
We all piled in the booth with excitement and ordered our soda, chatting away. We were all dying for ice cream but were happy just to be there.
“How’s Mr. Lincoln” I ask. Dad answers without a thought… “he died”. At first I don’t believe it because Mr. Lincoln and I had a pact that we would never leave each other, no matter what. But I could tell by Dad’s expression that it was true. Sitting in the booth at Friendly’s, I learn that I have lost what means most to me…. I softly sob…”no, it cant be true”….. then I cry so hard it seems like days….and my heart aches so much that I think it may never stop.
Beautiful Things 
he just suddenly died?