For My Father

Father, Son

a bond too often not nurtured —

such is not our story —

our story is strong as steel

our story is forged by love

when your son (me) thinks of father (you),

he thinks of a concerned friend,

an honest opinion,

a light beacon in the cold dark,

a teacher of obscure knowledge

he thinks of shared traits,

a deoxyribonucleic connection

of eyes, lips, feet, shyness, smarts

and lessons from monkey see monkey do

in honesty, kindness, resourcefulness, humor, discipline

he thinks of no missed birthdays,

never abandoning a wife and mother,

being the one to investigate scary night noises

he thinks of childhood back rubs just because,

strength in vulnerable sincerity,

heritage meals in cast iron pots,

sweet treats after the white coat comes off,

a fishing trip with seaweed catches,

wiffle ball games in the front yard,

instances of parental spoiling of child,

pulled hair above the ear —

and that’s okay because

it was a tough love reminder

to be mindful of what’s right

he thinks of accordion hums and green thumbs,

a number one fan at little league games

and life in general, for that matter,

supplier of anything you’ll ever need or not,

sun and sweat stained baseball caps,

learning how to pedal at the fair grounds

he thinks of looking in a mirror,

aspiring to inherit all the strong suits,

grateful for being cut from the same cloth,

beaming with pride to call you, simply, Dad