Roger

Thoughts of my dad, on his birthday.

I was never cold. 

He fed the wood stove 

like it was a newborn baby and in return 

we were always warm. 

He told me I was beautiful 

the summer I turned twelve. 

During that season, when I was awkward and changing from girl to young woman, 

I ran the Florida shores 

with all the confidence in the world.

When my best four legged friend died, 

he buried him under a tree and sat with me for hours, which turned to days, 

which turned to weeks, 

while I broke into a million pieces.

He regaled me with stories, 

showed me Magic Kingdoms for Sale, 

the Shire, and the glorious prose of Pat Conroy.

He gave me Led Zeppelin, Santana, Jethro Tull and Aqualung, Allison Krause and Union Station.

We shared the same dream at night, 

often waking to find the other 

had also found another room in the ever growing magical house we could only find in our dreams.

My Dad- he breathed for babies, and the elderly, and all the folks in between, 

trading his tool belt for a stethoscope. 

He showed me how to wait

 in the space between breaths 

because that is where we find 

what others need. 

He has always made me feel safe. 

He knows every answer

 to every question I could ask, 

He fixes everything that ever breaks, 

and he set a standard I never thought

 I’d match in a spouse.

I see him in my sons.

Solomon is a pillar of quiet strength, watchful, still waters running deep, prepared and always ready.

Eli would trade earth for the Shire, Ender’s intergalactic travels for a life on earth, and loves knowledge but also has understanding.

Jonas has his work ethic. He wakes to move, to serve, to do and fix things. 

Ben has his humor. He is witty and sharp, funny with the same twinkle in his eyes. 

I am the luckiest daughter. My mom and sister are the luckiest. His grandchildren are the luckiest of all.