It wouldn’t make sense unless I explain it to you. Why my dad is like the sailboat and my obsession with water. How mother is like a lighthouse (with a burned-out bulb). I wouldn’t have thought to explain it to anyone except someone made the statement that got me thinking.
“We sure spend a lot of time around the reservoir.”
And maybe we do.
Not even as much as I’d like, but almost every chance I get to go there, I take it. I drive along Sunbury Road only from Dempsey to Big Walnut Road because I see the most of the reservoir.
I wrote about this long way home a couple of years ago. “When I see water, my heart starts to travel...” When I feel confused or sad or lost I park the car where I can see the water and sit there. I have gone there when I was happy. I’ve taken other people on picnics there mostly. Sam mostly. Lately, when I start feeling something about my dad, I go there. It’s calming in way that I wish I could explain.
Even though I travel by reservoir at least once a week, in my heart I search for sailboats. Today there weren’t any. The weekenders weren’t out yet, too early on a Friday afternoon.
It's fall, zooming through the cool breeze, back into the wooded countryside, the leaves beginning to show yellow and signs of fall. I'm thinking about Dad again, wondering why some days are just like that; where you think of someone in great islands of times and then there are oceans of nothing about them. Taking the long way home, past the water. I saw a sail boat with teal and purple striped sail. The second I saw it, I heard my heart say, hi dad!
When I see them, it’s like he’s nearby. It’s not like we ever sailed or ever talked about it. But because he served in the navy, and always liked ships, Spanish Galleons to be precise, he and this icon have come to be inseparable in my mind. And if it lasted forever, it wouldn't be a bad thing.
“We sure spend a lot of time around the reservoir.”
And maybe we do.
Not even as much as I’d like, but almost every chance I get to go there, I take it. I drive along Sunbury Road only from Dempsey to Big Walnut Road because I see the most of the reservoir.
I wrote about this long way home a couple of years ago. “When I see water, my heart starts to travel...” When I feel confused or sad or lost I park the car where I can see the water and sit there. I have gone there when I was happy. I’ve taken other people on picnics there mostly. Sam mostly. Lately, when I start feeling something about my dad, I go there. It’s calming in way that I wish I could explain.
Even though I travel by reservoir at least once a week, in my heart I search for sailboats. Today there weren’t any. The weekenders weren’t out yet, too early on a Friday afternoon.
It's fall, zooming through the cool breeze, back into the wooded countryside, the leaves beginning to show yellow and signs of fall. I'm thinking about Dad again, wondering why some days are just like that; where you think of someone in great islands of times and then there are oceans of nothing about them. Taking the long way home, past the water. I saw a sail boat with teal and purple striped sail. The second I saw it, I heard my heart say, hi dad!
When I see them, it’s like he’s nearby. It’s not like we ever sailed or ever talked about it. But because he served in the navy, and always liked ships, Spanish Galleons to be precise, he and this icon have come to be inseparable in my mind. And if it lasted forever, it wouldn't be a bad thing.
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