I'll tell you what I remember most. Walking in on Christmas Eve day, to the smells of turkey dinner and the bustling
of intertwined lives
always surely together. Of chopping walnuts mechanically, on large carpet pillows. I'd be extra careful to do my best even though my mom would always have to finish the job.
Then I would wait, impatiently for Him to light the fire. He would go to the garage, gather newspapers and wood, and clearly instruct, "Make the newspaper into balls to put under the grate, the put the wood on top inside it" He would stoke the fire until it hummed, a pleasent flitting guardian.
Then I would curl in myself,
on pillows under cover,
and smile to the crackling conversation,
safe in my childhood void.

Rest in Peace, beloved father and grandfather.


Your Wedding Hostesses said...

WHAT???? A nice post about my dad???

Melee said...

Oh, this is so sweet and sad. It made me feel nostalgic for those past days when we didn't realize how precious and nearly perfect life was.

mckenzie. said...

So, so lovely. I feel like I can smell it, see it. You are a true writer.