This year, the first day of summer fell on the 3rd
Sunday in June.
Father’s Day, your day, has the most light our year will
offer.
As I watch the sun finally concede its end
and transfer the domain of
our world over to the night,
I think about those summer nights, ♪oh those summer nights♪.
Those summer nights we spent together were as different from
Danny and Sandy’s
as the fleeting day is from the fast approaching night.
Instead of chasing that illusive specter I’ve come to know
as teenage romance
I spent those nights basking in your love,
Soaking it in as we watched our bobbers float on the end of
translucent lines in between lily pads while listening to baseball on a radio
powered by D-Batteries.
Not speaking much but saying volumes to each other.
Then later on those summer nights we’d gather lawn chairs into
a circle,
So we could watch orange, yellow, and crimson minstrels dance on a
stage the that we made of pine, oak, and ironwood.
You’d tell me stories of when you were my age and I’d listen
as I roasted marshmallows, drank Sprite, and ate French-onion flavored Sun
Chips.
There were those Summer Days too.
We spent them floating in foreign lands where the conifers dwarfed us
in size and outnumbered us in population
and it was more likely to see a moose than an unfamiliar
face.
There’s the raspberry patch in the backyard
Where I’d act like a baby bird, opening my mouth skyward and
chirping
Waiting expectantly for you to gently place those freshly
picked berries onto my tongue like a communion wafer.
Earlier yet there’s those summer mornings
When my alarm clock wasn’t an evenly timed electronic beep,
but rather the scent of pancakes and sausage links wafting
through my bunk bed.
There’s the cribbage board set between us on a red-and-white-checkered
plastic tablecloth
We’d play game after game while being serenaded by the duet
of rainfall on the tin roof over our heads and polka music playing in the next
room.
These memories and so many others you’ve placed into my
hands like seeds to be planted
Some slipped through my youthful fingers and rolled away,
Only to be found flourishing in dusty corners and under
half-read books while I’m looking for something else entirely.
Some you helped me plant right away in the fertile soil of
my young heart
There they’ve grown and blossomed, producing sweet fruit
that begs to be savored and shared.
The rest I’ve kept tucked away safely like precious jewels.
I’m saving them for the hearts of the children I will father
So that your legacy of love will flourish even beyond my
lifetime
So, today, on your day, the tipping point of the never-ending,
always changing battle between light and dark for the 24 hours we call a day
I simply want to say THANK YOU.
Thank you for being a father to me in the summers of my
youth and those beyond.