Musings on my Father

Some random pieces I wrote for my father for fathers day, all original works.
Please don’t use any of these without permission or post them without my knowledge. 
I love you, Daddy. ❤

First Dance

            The school gymnasium echoed with the upbeat sound of country booming within the walls. Crowds of parents and their daughters swayed to the tune of the music – all dressed in their costume hats and boots. The smallest of the girls were dressed in little brown vests – patches and buttons sewn to them for accomplishments from their time with one another. The older of the girls dressed in green sashes with twice as many patches as the younger girls.

            The Girl Scout square dance was a time for the parents and young girls to have a chance to get to know one another, have fun, include the parents, and raise money for the girls to go on future adventures to grow themselves and the community they resided in.

            Everyone was shuffling clumsily on the dance floor – laughing and trading off partners. All except for one young girl – who was dressed in a brown vest. Her bouncy curls were pulled back and a pink cowgirl hat rested on her head, matching the boots and dress she wore. She nervously shuffled her feet, bright green eyes staring at the other girls dancing with their parents and their friends.

            She’d been curiously gazing at the crowd of people until she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder – making her gleefully grin.

            “Daddy!” she exclaimed, grabbing the hand that was held out to her. She’d always known that her father wasn’t much of a dancer. In fact, he hated dancing and would never have done it in any other instance. The young girl had no idea how much of a step it was for the middle aged man to step forward and take his little princess on the dance floor – but, she’d realize much later on exactly how much that step cost.

            The two hands clinged as they stepped clumsily on the dance floor (having the small boot-covered feet stomp on his much more than a few times) as the laughed and grinned, dancing what was supposed to be a square dance (although it could hardly be considered as such).  

            It was her first dance – underneath the raggedy gym ceiling, amongst the girls in her Girl Scout troop at the age of eight. Clumsily bouncing around with her father, she’d been given the confidence to go dance with her friends, who, in her opinion, could never match up to the elegance of the stumbling moves her father had on the dance floor – but, they seemed to be a little more size-fitting for her.

Starry Nights

Bright lights gleaming from above

Like crystal balls seeing back into the past

Young innocent eyes stared

Entranced by the light that reflected in their hues

 Starry nights could never be more beautiful than tonight

All for the family of threes delight –

Shooting stars, meteors, and not a single sound of buzzing cars.

Laying underneath the heavens,

Contemplating things like life, death, and last week’s dinners.

All under the gleaming heavens

Searching deeper for meanings or answers

When in all reality –

They were just creating another memory under the history of those gleaming lights

A father, two daughters, a billion stars, and one whole night.

Hands

The hands that had gripped criminals to shove them behind cold iron bars were the same ones that had held onto two young girls as he watched them grow.

Hands that held weapons, handcuffs, and felons were the same hands held his wives limp ones as he clenched hospital papers saying ‘brain aneurism.’

His hands had held through countless therapy sessions, wheelchairs, and feeding tubes.

They held onto garden tools, dirty clothes, and pots for mealtime.

Hands that tried to teach two young girls how to brush their hair, dress, and what it meant when ‘mother nature gave her monthly gift’.

Those same calloused hands mowed lawns, fixed broken appliances, and tugged the sticky hands from twelve foot ceilings – only to outlaw the devilish toys once more. 

He’s changed the diapers of two young girls and one sick wife,

Wiped away every tear and kissed every injury, made sure to be on time for every doctors visit, dance recital, school event, and church service.

He’s woken up before the sun itself to make sure everyone in the house was settled before himself and gone to bed after everyone else to make sure they were safe.

He’s stood on street corners to beg for food when there was none.

He’s pitched tents when there was nowhere else to rest their head.

He’s endured good days, bad days, hopeless days, the joyful ones.

He’s been a father, a mother, and so much more.
            To be a father is to have a biological connection to another person.

To be a Dad – is to be so much more.

 

A Lady for a Day

She’d never liked it when he went to work. Her father was her favorite Barbie doll actor, baseball thrower, and tea party princess. When he’d come home from thirteen hour graveyard shifts at work – she’d gleefully drag him to her toy room and make sure that if his eyes started to slide shut, she’d re-crown him as the fairy king. Although, she would admit, at some times she would use that brief power nap to grab her little girl’s makeup kit to start practicing.

She’d always known the familiar smell of polo cologne and soap when he stepped out in his uniform for the day – his hair slicked back neatly. This meant it was time for him to go to work. He’d gotten his things ready and settled inside of the black jeep that was his pride and joy before calling his little girl over for a goodbye before work.

“Do you have to go?” she said, frown quickly forming on her face.

“Yes, sweetie, I need to go to work.” he responded, slight chuckle coming from his lips.

“Why?” she started, eyeing him carefully. She could start the why game for hours if she wanted to. Perhaps that would keep him home for the day.

“Well if I go to work, who is going to make the money to take care of you and buy food.”

“We don’t need any more food or money!”

“Baby, I have to go to work.”

The young girl paused, contemplating this for a moment. Thoughts rushed through her mind as wildly as a hurricane before she concocted the perfect idea.

“Daddy, I know how you can stay home!” she gasped, suddenly excited.

“And how is that?”

“I have my play wig and necklace! If you put those on and pretend to be a girl, they won’t notice you and you won’t have to go to work!”

The man paused for a moment, unsure if he should laugh or frown at the statement.

“I’m pretty sure that they might still notice me missing.”

Of course, her father had once again spent the day at work – unable to be a lady for the day like she had urged him. She was certain if he put that natty blonde wig on, he’d certainly not be noticed by his fellow coworkers.

Either way – as soon as her exhausted father had gotten home to lay down for a few minutes, the young girl was bouncing up and down on the couch, urging him to play with her.

 

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One comment

  1. Just amazing words of love and affection for a great man who sacrificed everything and laid down his life for all those he truly loved. Thank you for sharing these great poems, stories and life experiences. Your father is a wonderful man of God who loves you very much and I am ever so grateful you treasure him!!!!

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