My father joined me for coffee this morning. Watching the sun beams spotlight the dancing dust particles in the air, I curl up in the corner of my leather couch and savor our time together.
I sit in the silence of words unspoken.
The race track of my mind is filled with morning fog and worry. The worry born of a child in the city, a child in the country and a child on a journey.
Did I pack their bags with the right stuff? Or the wrong stuff? Or too much stuff?
I, I wasted so much time.
Time believing I didn’t have enough, missing what I had.
40 years of baggage, finally off my back.
“How did you do it? Stay sane with 10 kids?” I ask every time.
“Did you see me?”
I hear his smile. No time to sweat what you can’t control.
The reunion was spectacular. The soundtrack of laughter replays in my head. All ten of us together. Again.
You were missed. But you know that, you were there. Everywhere.
“Your burning daylight.” My turn to smile with the hug of the familiar phrase.
Better get on with my day. Thanks for the coffee.