Active Seniors

My dad's face comes up on the screen, sweaty and pink, a brick wall behind him. "Hey there, son!" he says heartily.

"Why do I always catch you out doing something when I call?" I say, laughing.

"I'm playing pickleball!" he says happily, holding up a black-gloved hand. 

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One year ago: Theophobia

Two years ago: Gaming

Three years ago: Vanity

Four years ago: Monk Parakeets, To Be Precise