While witnessing this moment of unabashed reverence, I was reminded again how fortunate I’ve been to have a father like my dad, and a mother like my mom. Watching him in the predawn dark, made me think back to all those long ago winter mornings of my youth. It was often still dark when I’d stumble up the stairs from my basement bedroom, weak with sleep, dragging my blanket behind me as I climbed. Predictably, I’d find my dad in his underwear, kneeling in front of the brick fireplace steadily blowing life into the beginning sparks of a new flame.
We had been locked in a dead sprint towards the finish line, trying to keep up or catch up, or just not fall. “We just have to get through these last few weeks…” I’d say to myself over and over agains as I ran around finding props for plays, or making cupcakes for the banquet, throwing his white dress shirt into the dryer with a damp towel again and again so he’d appear unwrinkled, care for.
Jumping is a verb, and goals achieved and destinations reached often take determined action and should be celebrated.
“You gotta try your luck at least once a day, because you could be going around lucky all day and not even know it.” – […]
He suddenly interrupted my rapid fire questioning by impatiently pressing a spot on my thigh like an elevator button, crying out, “DEACTIVATE mother-mode! I repeat, DEACTIVATE MOTHER MODE! All systems shut-down!! This is not a drill!! Mayday! Mayday!”
Meet My Team! My Dad Wren & Gladys Ellis already had four daughters, when my father made a surprise appearance 8 years later, with a […]