A Father's Day memory

This Father's Day, I wanted to pay tribute to my dad with a poem I wrote a few years ago.

It recounts a memory from my childhood -- one that is actually related to Christmastime, so it's a little out of season.  But it's relevant because it acknowledges the kind of person my dad was and is: always helping and doing things for other people, without complaint. When you're a kid, it's so easy to take for granted the things your parents do; when you're older, those acts of sacrifice and service take on greater significance.

Happy Father's Day, Dad, and thanks for everything. I love you.

Christmas Concert

My dad walks down the lane in the dark 
– just a flashlight, snow knee-deep –

to brush off the truck and start it up.

Then it’s back to the barn to hitch the horse,

put bales of straw on the sleigh bottom,

and cover them with a horse-blanket.

My mom, my brothers, and I all climb on

for the short,unsteady ride

to the end of the lane,

listening to the stars shivering overhead

and the horse’s whooshing breaths.

We huddle into the warm truck

while my dad takes the horse

back to the barn, unhitches it, and walks

to the road once more

to drive us to the church.

After the concert, he does it again.

Patience is my dad’s red, scratchy face.

Goodness is the marks in the snow

from the horse’s hooves, the sleigh runners,

and my dad’s rubber boots.

Trust is a December night

– breathless cold, snow sparkling like jewels –

hardly needing to know

someone makes the wonder

possible.