The leaves under my feet crunched as I walked to an old log that lies on the ground. The air was cold and humid, I could feel the wet air stick to me. My hair stuck to the back of my neck as I looked deep into the fog. I knelt and sat on the log. Picking at the dead bark I thought about everything. I thought about my 8th birthday and how I sat on my dads shoulders in the pool and he sang me happy birthday. I remember the time my dad researched types of butterfly’s so he could surprise me with his knowledge when I talked about my obsession with them. I thought about when he sat outside my room all night after he carried me home drunk to make sure I didn’t get sick in my sleep. The fog in the woods danced around in the air, turning into pictures, memories, of me and my dad. I love him so much, he was the most selfless person I’ve ever know, but what he did was the most selfish thing he’s ever done.