The End of a Journey is Not Always as Sweet as the Ride...

"You need to be careful with that cellphone," I told my father tonight. "I could hear everything clear as a bell to what Charlie was saying here sitting next to you. You don't want any hurt feelings."

"I forgot Charlie's prescription," dad said looking miffed with frustrated furrows in his brow.

Dad had just left the pharmacy, swung by his house for my sodas, and stopped by my house for the medication ritual when Charlie called.

"Come on," I told my father. "I will ride with you and give you somebody to talk to. Let's go get Charlie's medications."

"That would mean so much to me," my father said. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Let me change my shirt and we will go," I told him.

I had on a stark white cotton t-shirt and it always makes me feel like I am wearing my pajamas out in public when I am wearing them. They are my sleeping shirts.

Dad and I headed back to the pharmacy as the sun was setting in the West. I sat out in the car as dad turned off the alarm and went inside to fill the prescription. Soon, dad was in the car and we were headed back up busy Hwy 29.

Dad and I had a really good conversation on that trip. It took us about an hour to make it back to Charlie's house to deliver the medicine.

"You know Charlie would drive across the country for us if we needed him," dad said. "That's the least I could do for him in turn."