Fathers and Roses

I remember you walking up the stairs at night and checking if I was asleep. It was a comforting game that I only played when I had already won.

I remember basement steps, and doing the hard icky jobs, just so others wouldn’t have to.

I remember the shop and the mysteries it held. I remember a big office and an old pickup.

I remember the scuffed leather chair, a cocked head and a phone resting gently while joking threats conveyed a total sense of safety.

I remember homework at the kitchen table and the red circled commas.

I remember lamb’s brains, and the comforting thought that you were human.

I remember Chapman picnics, and carnivals and T ball and soccer games.

I remember camping, and beach adventures. Hauling the crab pots seemed like nothing to you and the activity was so much more fun than sitting on the spit. I remember measuring and the pleasure of ‘too small, throw it back!’ The scuttling in the bottom of the boat was not scary because you were there.

I remember beer batter pancakes and building fires.

I remember carpools and your protectiveness as you understood I was not a girl who backed down.

I remember the startling idea that you were that kind of parent too, calming babies and changing diapers.

I remember planting trees on hillsides and an I5 Thanksgiving and Rice Hill.

I remember early mornings and the moment I knew what you were thinking by how you breathed.

I remember a sunburn on one leg because you let me drive the whole way to the beach.

I remember ‘hearts were made to be broken’ and ‘hey Carol, we have the back seat to ourselves’

I remember Stanford’s dinners, and early morning RAC visits. Flowers and cards.

I remember hair-cuts and olive groves and field trips with no contingencies.

I remember you saying ‘yes’, to school dances, and rides and every question I ever thought to ask you.

I remember every time you rescued me, and there are many.

I remember kindness. And humility. And a willingness to learn, always.

I remember ‘hands in the water, when I could not swim, I hung on to him’

It was always all right.





My fitness goal for this year is kindness
My health insurance recommends mindfulness
Which does have health benefits in a Realist world

But undeniable

Listen to more music
Dance with myself
Enjoy sunshine

Resolutions to bring balance
And joy

Rainbows only come after the storm
And it’s important to look when the weather clears
Clouds roll in
And roll out
And light particles reflect different ions in different spectrums

Babies born at midnight on New Years can live in a whole other century
Does it change their identity?
Or would they always be themselves?

We start each day, each moment, each year and decade fresh with new possibilities
Each moment we have a choice
to embrace where we are
Or regret the things lost
The paths not taken

The future always unfolds before us
But it also unfolds back
All the little choices
And coincidences
A book left behind accidentally brought us each to this one eddy in the river of time

5 years later
I’m still learning from you
I see your love spread
Shared through the world and each person in it
I hear your words
I see your kindness
I will always miss your laughter

Heart survives
Sometimes the heart strings stretch too far
And I’m afraid they will break
But I never do

2016-01-05 18.05.04