From Younger Years

January 21, 2010
That smile on his face as he stands there.
The pool is too small for him and his blue swim trunks
But he seems to love it all the same.
His hair was longer then,
Still thin on the top but it sticks out more
On the sides.
His beard is pure red unlike the grey streaks I see today.
I bet he laughed the same.
I wish I could’ve been around then,
When he was still “young.”
He talks about walking across this big baseball field
Near where he used to live.
I can picture it in my head,
Though I’m sure the picture is wrong.
When I’m at my Nana’s house,
I can picture him there with his brothers and sisters.
I can imagine him lying in a three-high bunk bed
In between his brothers
Late at night.
I wonder what it would’ve been like for him as a child
To ride his bike off the dock like he told me about.
To walk around downtown after school.
To ride his skateboard to school
And to work in an itchy school uniform.
He doesn’t wear an itchy uniform to work now.
He works at home
With my mom at the daycare in our house.
He laughs with all the kids and takes care of them like his own.
Has he always wanted to do this?
Has he always planned on being there
When I leave for school in the morning
And when I come home in the afternoon?
I wonder if he always knew how much
His little girl would look up to him.
I wonder what he pictured his life to be like.
I wonder if it’s better.
I wonder what will come next and
When I look at him
I still see the little boy in the bunk bed
That rides his skateboard in an itchy uniform.
I still see my father,
My dad,
My hero.





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