My dad used to pick me up from school in our VW bus. Sometimes I had a friend with me, or my trumpet, or even my bike, which I rode to school and then was too tired to ride home after swim practice--
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| Dad, with me |
--The sound of the VW bus; the clutch; the ricky-tick engine. And then the sliding door. And my dad. So welcoming and familiar at the end of the day. He always let me pick the music on the way home, which seemed like an enormously big deal at the time.
Dad, do you remember how you loved those Jewel songs? And Eva Cassidy? Ella Fitzgerald was your favorite of my phases I think.
Then there was Ani Difranco.
Well, dad, I wish always that I could be with you on Father's Day to give you peanut brittle-- Like when I was little and someone would give it to you, and you'd have that secret beautiful tin in your study for a week-- every night bringing it out after dinner, and we'd all get a little shard.
Or we could watch an episode of the Cosby Show and laugh ourselves to pieces like we used to every Thursday in the 80's.
I wish I could be with you tomorrow to tell you how much it meant to me when you came up with mom, when Eloise was born, and played billions of games of Sorry with Violet. She plays it now with me, and always mentions that grandpa Eldon likes to be blue, and grandma Joy yellow. I pick green and she's red, I guess because those other colors are reserved for you guys.
Anyway-- Happy Father's Day. I love you so much and can't wait to be on the island in just a week or so-- listening to you play the piano for my girls, and hear your fish stories while we sit and watch the birds peck the feeder.
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| Mom, Dad, and Eloise |
