724. Goodbye, Beard

Goodbye, Beard. I miss you already. So much. People ridiculed you when you first started sprouting. Said you'd never be anything. I believed in you. My trust was rewarded with warmth and comraderie.

You saved me once. In Pittsburgh, after the Ravens game. Some unruly Steelers fans threw a snowball at us. We turned around and your wiry red color and impressive thickness intensified my rage. You scared them away - saved the day. I'm a short man but you made me feel seven feet tall. I could do anything, with you, together. I loved you.

I feel like I've divorced a child. When I pay off my debt with what I make utilizing a more professional look, I promise to buy a bike and bring you back.

In the meantime, I apologize to everyone I've let down. And you Beard.

I want you back.