The air outside is bitter and cold. But it still doesn’t compare to the ice I feel in my heart.

I miss you and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

I sit waiting by the door for you to come home from work, only to realize you will never open that front door again.

I miss you and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

I often close my eyes and hear that booming voice of yours saying “How come I love you so much?” But I open them and you are no where to be found.

I miss you and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

The key is still sitting in the draw to your car that says #1 Dad, but everyone else but you will start it up again.

I miss you and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

Your closet is still full of your clothes that still smell like you. I hug them sometimes and pretend its all okay.

I miss you and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

I wish you were still here Dad because I never got to tell you this.. You really suck at making eggs. But I would eat those eggs every minute of every day if I could just see you one more time.

I miss you. and your soggy eggs on Sunday mornings. 

-Your sweet girl.