Brown Eyed Girl

Photo by Alejandro Quintanar on Pexels.com

I am feeling you strongly, today. Wondering during a time of solace, what are you working on with your hands? The water is filling my eyes and I cannot get it together. I am bawling, but I do not have sadness. They are tears of pure admiration for you. My appreciation for you; overwhelming my sense, my water. Grab your hanky out of your back pocket before you drip on your Kindle. Grab a refill because it is not going to get any easier.

Others may not understand, but we have not questioned it. I only hear your voice but a couple time a year and see you less. However, I am somehow sitting here letting you know I am more than okay, but you already know this. It is the connection. It is the fact, we are both cussing out loud right now because the tears don’t stop falling. It is the reason for the title and the reason that song just played through my headphones. It is the reason you pulled me out of the river after I fell through the ice. It is only seeing your silhouette, in the sun, after you lifted the riding lawnmower off of me.

It is being in a mine with you at 6 am and you rescuing me with a Bobcat out of the muddy sink hole I seemed to not to be able to get out of due to over half my body under mud. Most recently, when you believed and trusted me. These are all the time you have kept me breathing. You have kept me alive.

(Insert pallet cleanser and my need to be funny when things are serous) If you have been following my posts, I recently told you that I get hurt in the stupidest of ways. (a.k.a. crazy and clumsy) You do not have to go back and read what I just said again, my past posts, that’s a requirement.

Yes, I fell through the ice of the Colorado River, in the middle of winter, at 4 or 5. At 9, I was ran over by a riding lawn mower. As you just read, we worked in a mine 7 years ago. I got stuck in a muddy sink hole, at the bottom of said mine pictured above. Except what you see is the top of the mine…. These moments are irrelevant. My subject matter, is the point. I needed to give said subject’s heart a break.

It’s the waking up to bison eating your tent, while a trip to Yellowstone. It is a Snicker’s bar staying, on a bumper, the entire state of Idaho. It is the Kumbaya’s, in South Dakota. It is the countless hours of free throws you made me shoot, or learning to shoot from the hip because you loved Peter Maravich and One on One. It is shooting a pop can with a .22 and cat fishing at 2 or 3 am. It is the elk kicking the car window, in on us. It is trekking through the snow with you to cut the family Christmas tree. It is swimming in the Atlantic and watching your hat take, its own journey. It is fossil hunting across the country. I am indulging in all the happiness re-living this has all been. Memories that are not even 25% of what you have taught us throughout life. People reading this, most likely thinking I am just using my imagination to fluff my post for view. We know better. However, these were my experiences provided to me while growing up. This is only a summary of the connection I share

It is “Ray Charles,” 😀 and Fleetwood Mac. It is Air Supply, Laura Branigan, REO Speedwagon, Van Morrison, Love Hurts and I Can See Clearly Now or watching me play one of my solos. You see I think very highly of you. I hope I have given you something to be proud of. I know I have made it hard and have struggled, you’re still liking every post. I have been silent because I have not had words for the gratitude and appreciation I have. Then, now and, in the future.

Dad, I love you!

P.S. Thanks for being weird and preparing us for this exact moment. You did so by reading us Little House on the Prairie, by kerosene lamp and cooking on the same stove you heated our beds up at night with. All the time, while the oven was turned on and the electricity shining bright. I have a new found gratitude and appreciate for you and your salty chocolate pancakes.

Love, T

Love, T

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