Tomorrow I’ll stand graveside and consider how I ended up there five years to the day since my father’s funeral.
Stand there and wonder about many things and watch the faces of my children to make sure they are ok.
I don’t doubt they’ll be fine but a father has many responsibilities and tomorrow I won’t just be his son and others will be there with me so I’ll take care of my obligations first.
Sitting at the head of the table in the place he occupied for years I listen for echoes of his footsteps and stare down to see my arms rest in indentations he created.
I already know none exist but this table has been around long enough for that to have happened if such a thing were likely.
Fifteen minutes ago I looked at his side of the closet and stared at the few items of his clothing that remain and considered whether to take any as I am the only one they might fit.
Once Upon A Lifetime
Took a moment to visit one of my oldest friends today at his parent’s house and stepped back in time. We met on the first day of kindergarten, a time long enough ago to be not long before the end of Vietnam.
I was glad to wish his mother a happy 90th birthday and took a short tour of updates in the house. When we walked into his living room I considered tackling him so that we could be told no roughhousing one more time.
Walked into the kitchen and thought about how I have walked in and out of it since the 70’s and smiled. It is one of the few constants in my life that hasn’t changed.
We talked about the kids in the picture above and how significantly they have grown and changed and compared notes on when we might retire.
Thought about how he went to visit his own father today and how I’ll go tomorrow and remembered when both men stood on the side of the field while we played t-ball. Thought about times where we had 4th of July picnics at the park and other moments where our fathers joined us and how now they exist in memories and echoes.
Touched briefly upon tasks and chores and considered again how these men may not stand next to us but are still with us because as we do these chores we still hear their voices.
Sometimes it is a gentle nudge to try a slightly different approach and sometimes it is a compliment on a good job.
No one has to say to do it right the first time because we were taught that long ago.
Smiled as I mentioned I don’t have to say anything to motivate similar behavior in the kids, it takes a look.
Laughed as I said the younger Mr. Wilner has a tiny inkling of what I had to deal with, but clearly has the better stance because I am far more patient than my father was.
If You Dare To Take My Hand
Stood outside and watched the sunset and thought about how they are particularly pretty here. Marked by colorful streaks across the sky, mountaintops nearby remind me I am not stuck in the flat lands of the Lonestar state.
I am twenty minutes from Malibu and 15 minutes from a hike that could take me to the place where they filmed MASH.
These are places I know in the most intimate places and if you dared to take my hand I could show you oh so much.
Sometimes the kingdom remains in a different realm where it is hard to access and sometimes the planes open up and allow you to gain entrance in ways not always granted.
There is magic in the air and I can hear the bells ringing and echoes of the future.
Tomorrow I’ll step into the past and come out the other side of the future.
Whatever has been waiting to grow and develop is not in need of more time. It is not a question of if but when.
It is a hell of a time, stuck in the middle of the three weeks and the nine days just prior to Tisha B’Av and the days to come.
Later I’ll grab my father’s tools and use them to take care of a few things and commune in a different sort of way.
It is not quite 1 AM in Texas and not quite 11 in Los Angeles but don’t ask me to tell you what year because it could be that time when the future to come is present or the past is pliable.
