In a few years we’ll start surpassing the age of our dad when he died. Such milestones carry the sense of reaching another planet, another world, albeit one that looks pretty much the same. I’ve mentioned before the prediction our dad offered when, as gradeschoolers, us brothers were fighting: “someday he’ll be your best friend.”
It seemed ludicrous at the time; probably why it stuck in my memory. I expected to prove him wrong. Although we aren’t best friends as some would count it, palling around and bear hugging, on the Abbott friendship scale, our dad was right.