Celebrating Life

The whoops and hollers we could hear had Dad smiling as we got out of the truck. When we were close enough to see the bonfire, he laughed and gave me a push to join my friends. It was the last all-out gathering before school resumed, and probably the last time I would see my friends for a while. I was leaving tomorrow.

It had been strange with Dad; good, but strange. We had talked, really talked, long into the night after we got home. I asked him all those questions I wasn't going to ask, and heard all the answers I wasn't sure I needed.

It didn't stop there. Early in the mornings, we talked about food and finances, domestic household stuff. Every day after we ran together in the woods, and often during our runs, we'd discuss the wolf. During workouts, we shared ideas about fighting and shifting. I found myself motivated to work out with him. I didn't mind the soreness or the fact I had more bruises than our workouts had ever given me.

We filled our nights with stories of Mom from befo