Memories of My Father

I remember sitting on the front porch swing, quietly rocking, with the sweet smell of honeysuckle hanging heavily in the humid Southern air. Lightening bugs flickered just outside the porch railing and the sliver of a moon peaked through the chinaberry tree.

That was one of my first real memories of Daddy on that warm Alabama evening when we lived in Number 8.

The sound of Mother pouring iced tea came through the open kitchen window.   All three of us sat in the swing, enjoying cooling, sweet taste

Daddy would have me touch my stomach and feel the cold of the tea inside.   He smiled.

Later on when we lived in Birmingham in the projects, I happily recall, not him exactly, but letters he wrote to Mother while he was looking for work in Michigan.   Taped to the bottom of the letters was 5 or 10 cents so each of us kids could buy Popsicles.   We’d run out with the coins and come back on a hot summer day with Popsicle sweetness running down our arms.

Then he came back to move us to Michigan.   He and Mother danced in the living room imagining their new life.   They were both excited and happy.   It filled me with joy  just looking at them.   They were full of dreams.

I remember an old radio we had.   In Michigan on cold winter nights, Daddy would tune in some show (when there were still “shows” on the radio) and we’d all gather around and listen as he found something that he knew we would like.   It felt safe and warm and cozy.

Later on as I got older I listened as he made up little nicknames for my kids just like he did for me.   And I watched him make a horsy and bounce them on his leg.

And this last February on another cold and snowy night, Dennis, Dan and I played dominoes with him.   He was so good, so quick and took such pleasure in it that I basked in what felt like a glow.   I just had to smile and still do every time I think of it.

There were so many little moments… the kind that make up life and that you don’t think about too much when they are happening.   When you stop and think about it, that is what you are left with when a person is gone.   I cherish every one of those memories I’ve mentioned and thousands of others that I had with Dad.

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