For The Last Time

I plopped onto the couch crashing into my dad as he laid on the couch, automatically my eyes locked on the T.V where the movie was playing. The difference in comfort between my father and the couch were little to none, besides the heat from his chest where I laid my head down. The T.V. stood in front of us playing The Bee Movie which I made him buy me earlier that day. A small glass coffee table stood between us and the T.V., where my Mickey Mouse mug sat sending the smell of cold hot chocolate in the air. I don’t remember much about my father or the time I spent with him. I do remember this one visit, the last one, like it was yesterday.

My father is a warm and kind man, I usually don’t get to see him often since he’s in the army. My father is a Staff Sergent, he’s very high ranked and has fault in many battles but for now they put him to train new soldiers on base. But, when I do get to spend alone time with him... those are the best few days of my life, he treats me like a Princess- which is what he nicknamed me. Even with being apart from my mom I have a great time. He took me up to Jersey this time, instead of his house in Queens, it was Christmas vacation and we only had a weekend together. This is one of the only times he has off, so after pleading for a week he finally gave in. I got everything I wanted, including birthday gifts that he missed when I turned nine in October.

My father’s wife, Tracy a bitter women with a snide way of talking, sat alone on the recliner, “you’re going home tomorrow.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, she always had to point out the obvious, especially with me. I brushed it off and quickly felt the tears rushing to me, I fought them back not wanting my father to see me burst into tears. I tried to concentrate on the movie, focus on the yellow and black bees flying around. When my father wrapped his arms around me, I could feel his instance heat on me like a blanket. I think he was just as sad I was. There was, now, no comparison between my dad and the couch. Even with the soft cushion that could easily shape to my comfort, I much rather lie on my father’s chest. Just feeling his heart beat and breathing was relaxing enough to calm my nervs.

I took in a big inhale, the room carried a warm scent of family that was, strangely, new to me. My father’s cologne wafted in the air swirling with the salty smell of the chicken we brought for dinner. The day was late and I was fighting to keep my eyes open, to make the night last just a little bit longer.My father’s usually loud, booming voice was in a low hum. The lullaby he used to sing to me filled in the silence of the house. I let my heavy eyes closed and slowly drift off to sleep in my father’s arms for the last time.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback