Today would have been my Papa’s birthday. Sometimes memories hurt, things he did to me that changed me forever. Other times, I just miss him. I see him turning his wrist to check the time, smoking his cigarette, standing with his hands on his hips. I’m thankful that I was able to forgive him. He brought my grandmother a quilt pattern for their first date instead of flowers. He knew her heart. He fell in love with the trees of TN and moved his family from TX. I loved to watch the Dallas Cowboys play with him and eat pancakes, play dominos and walk in the woods with him. He was a hard man, maybe even a little strange, but he was my Papa and there is a part of him in me. There always will be, good or bad.