My father is thirty years older than I am, and that puts him well into the retirement age bracket. He lived up here in Canada when he was a younger man, having moved from Guyana to find better opportunities for himself and for his family. He moved down to Florida a few years ago, as that seems to be the thing to do when you retire these days. I think that I may actually see more of him now that he lives 2 500 kilometres from me than I did when he was living an hour’s travel down the highway. I saw him last night, in fact. We sat and talked for a few hours, which is more than we’ve talked at any one time in many years. It was good to be able to talk to him like that, but it may be that it was in many ways the saddest conversation we’ve ever had.
