Trying To Find Him

The problem is, a family's a family, and then when you grow up, it may not be, and when dad and I sat in that booth at Denny's a year before he died and just before I moved back here to California, I tried to find the man who'd held me once on his lap and sang 'Sonny Boy, ' I tried to be that Sonny Boy, but I searched in a flurry through all the molecules of available air for some that might conduct our love to one another again, and I had to make do with the memory and a gruff old man in front of me who didn't seem to approve of anything I did, yet didn't want me to leave