My Father

Traveling across this country, following the crops. The family and most of our possession carried in one station wagon pulling an old trailer. Two days travel on long lonely roads. The days going by faster than the nights. Clear blue starry skies, cool winds flowing through open windows. A sky so deep blue, so many stars, and that AM radio picking up a fading station hundreds of miles away. Always hoping for a good tomorrow. Looking for work, for a house, for a way to make it through another day, another summer, another year.

Father’s silhouetted by the lights of the dashboard. So strong, so confident, a real father, a husband, our strength. We would follow him to any place in this world. He could take us there and bring us back safely. He was not an infallible man. In my eyes he was as close to being one as no other man ever could.

I miss him….really miss him. Sitting on his lap with my head against his chest, there was no place more secure, warmer, loving. I miss sitting on the ground watching him work. Hearing his voice making up new words so he wouldn’t say a cuss word in front of us. Looking at the dark scar on his shoulder blade, darker that his already dark skin.
His thin mustache that he took great care in keeping trim. His large hands with thick fingers, the same hands I now see on my son Maiko, same patience, same easy manner.
I miss working with him on the survey crew. I miss seeing him sitting outside the house at night, swatting mosquitoes off him with a towel.
I miss hearing Elfida telling me that I needed to go outside and help him cut the grass, paint the house, fix the truck, unclog the sink, build a fence, replace the faucet, clean the garage…. I miss him.
I also know that my mother misses him more than I will ever know. I know that no matter what happens she will hurt, hurt in her heart. I talked to her this morning, and the pain is as strong as the day he died. She awoke happy a few days ago. She had dreamed of him. She said he was young, she held his hand again. He had come home…I miss my father, she misses her husband.
He won’t ever come home, but one day we will go to him. In time our family will gather again, maybe travel on a long road, on a starry night, in our old station wagon and hear a fading radio station from many years ago.