Last year around this time I went to a thrift store with my father. I had to use the bathroom so i told him I was going across the street to use a bathroom at a restaurant.
He walked to the window, looked at the street and told me, "Make sure you look both ways, cars won't be able to see you over there."
I don't remember how I responded, if I said a sarcastic comment about not being four, if I just said Alright Thanks Dad; as I walked away I did look both ways. It was when and how he looked at me, for a second I was little again: small and trusting and safe.
I fought back tears the whole way there because despite everything said or done to each other, at 17 years old my father still worries enough to tell me to look both ways.
Its the little things.
