As he spoke he could see me through his eyes.
I could see my room, as we talked about catechism, Kevin and my love for him, Patty Shue and schoolwork.
But how was it possible? I didn"t remember seeing him.
I was certain that I had never let any stranger into my house, much less my room.
Why in his memories could I see myself as I told him all my affairs, happy to talk to him.
"I don"t understand. I don"t remember seeing you before."
"Look closely in my memories" he invited me amused.
I tried to concentrate more.
At some point I found myself walking over to my father and grabbing him in my arms. I gave him a big kiss on his black fur and put him in my lap, lying on the bed.
