I see the neighboring house and realize that this is the first time the windows haven't been boarded up in recent memory, which means the home has been restored after a fire, which means that the street isn't adorned with a large dumpster and porta potty anymore, which is nice, and I think to remark this to my dad, which is something I often do, sort of earmark a thought to relay to my dad at some future point, except for now that relaying will occur at the hospital, not his house, which is where I just was, his house, and he was not there, which was strange and disheartening and a little scary, though we'd all like to believe it's only temporary, that he'll soon be back and we can marvel together at the state of the block that he lives on and how there's not a porta potty in sight.
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