Consistently Inconsistent

Consistency was never a word for dad. He was like a painter’s wheel with squares whited out so nothing ever flowed quite the way it should. In fact, there was something foreboding about the concept of color coordination and alphabetical order that he always seemed to avoid. Things have never been in constant pattern nor have we ever viewed a schedule in our house. I can’t even list how many times we’ve been just barely late. Someone once said my dad wasn’t a good one because he doesn’t always lay down rules or make us stay in on school nights. “There’s no sense of order! Children need a sense of order.” But there is something no one understands and that’s that even though it isn’t perfect and there are things that could improve, There’s consistency in where it lacks. And we wouldn’t change him for the world. by Sarah Rosendahl