Being A Man

It was a battle I fought, something I tried desperately to hide from those around me. I was on my way to being a man and men were strong, men didn't cry, they were comforters they were never the comforted. Then one day, as Dad walked into the house from work, Mom went to him and told him that Missy, our beloved dog he had rescued from the streets of downtown Brownwood years before, was gone, apparently poisoned. Silent tears came to his eyes, he looked toward me, started to speak but then quickly walked away. That was the last day I fought that battle, that was the day I learned another lesson in being a man.