I always seem to forget that there are people who worry about me. Ever since I was a boy, I wandered off into the woods and gave no thought to those behind me. I remember my mother telling me I scared her half to death. Once I'd done it twice, I wondered what kept her alive. My Dad had a different tact. If I did something wrong, he punished me. When I became an adult, he never questioned me. Once when my Mom was worried about me, my Dad just told her: Don't worry. He'll make it. He always does.
My Mom is still around. I visit her a lot. But I really miss my Dad. I wish he was still around for me to tell my latest stories and have him give me advice. I'm still crazy after all these years, at least that's what Mom says. Dad would just tell me I have to live my life.