More of a Story, Then a Poem
My Fathers House
It had been years since he had last seen his dad, when he lost his job,
he hardly came home.
After many missed birthdays and graduations, he gave up on the notion of a real dad...
Years later, he found him living under a bridge, on a makeshift bed.
He ate off a cardboard table held together by rocks and twine. Stored his empty bottles in an old beat up cooler, filled with stale pizza. They had words that day and he vowed to never return. As far as he was concerned, his dad was dead...
One day he got a phone call from a nursing home saying his dad was in their care.
He had requested a visit from him, would he please come. He had expected many things on that day, but a clean dad with combed hair, was not one of them.
They shared a hot coffee and donut while sitting at a table. They spoke for hours.
He asked his son to wheel him to the dresser. He gave him a card with a big blue balloon on it and a circus clown. "Whatever happened to that little boy?" he asked him through his tears.
"I don't know dad, I guess he grew up" while you were elsewhere .
That night for the first time in years he slept in a dry bed with a real blanket and, a door.
Somethings he learned to live without , some things he plain threw out,
but the memory of his son's smile, that he never forgot. " Its oka dad,
it flew up in heaven to be with mom " was his five year old reply.
He once had a child and he abandoned him, just like a circus clown.
July 26, 2021
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