And a remembrance of my own dad, gone five years now.
Memories live within the senses.
The sight of baby bluest eyes and wrinkled smiles.
I hear the roars of every kind of engine, mowers, drills
and the chainsaw that we tried hard not to fix;
the gentle voice heard reading Golden Books to little girls.
Smells of sawdust, fresh paint
and the seasonal burning of the lawns will live forever.
Tasting still the swordfish sticks, his favorite pineapple upside-down cake,
the hard candy snuck to children in a goodnight kiss.
Reaching out to touch him when he’s gone away
is the hardest one to feel through emptiness and summer air that chills me,
till I can close my eyes and ears and breath the silence for a while.
Then warmth returns and covers me in a father’s arms again.
12/12/11 – 07/23/04