Silence.

He steps in, clutching a well worn videotape. He scratches behind his neck, clearing his throat somewhat nervously as he glances off to some far corner of my room. “It’s uh… An old video. Like a montage of some…” There’s a long pause in which I continue to stare with slightly squinted eyes at my father.

“Some old things from when you were a kid.”

“What? You found it? I thought you said she made you throw it away when we moved in!” I’m suddenly bounding off my bed, multicolored toe socks thudding on the hollow floor. I rush over to my dad with suddenly renewed humor, throwing my arms around him and nearly killing him with a death grip of a hug. He is shocked at first, but eventually he returns my embrace. He relinquishes me after a few minutes, and we head into the loft to wallow in memories.

And so we review the first years of my life. A montage of birthdays and first words and what have you. My dad and I get to laugh together.

Together being just us, for once.