It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.
On Friday, Tracey shared writing her daughter had done as a gift to her dad. I was grateful for the piece as it restored some memories of times with my own dad that I haven't access in a while. My dad died almost seven years ago, and we spent so many years taking care of him that those memories shroud the happier ones.
Tracey's daughter is about the same age in the photograph that she shared that I was when my dad and I used to run together. I didn't love running. It was an efficient and semi-effective way to manage the college-era beer, bread, and cookie intake. I don't know if my dad loved running either, but he was compulsive and competitive, and whenever I was home we'd do "the loop."
The loop is a 3.5 mile unsidewalked (I know that's not a word, but you can begin to envision), hilly course. People drive much faster than the 25 MPH posted speed limit, and I suspect they did so back in the late eighties, as well. We always debated which way to take the loop. One way started with a tough hill up, and one way ended with a tough hill up. "Want the rough stuff at the beginning or the end," he'd ask. He always let me choose, although he was always in the lead.
Did I mention that running wasn't my favorite activity? (I know. I did.) Neither of us were good enough at running to hold much of a conversation. He could tell jokes since they didn't involve too many words strung together at once. He was a doctor, and the jokes that he collected from hours in the operating room were impressive. Many times I found myself focused on the spots where his feet were landing several strides in front of me, doing my best to match his strides and sometimes making guesstimates of how many strides it would take to get to the next mailbox. The mailboxes were far apart enough that it was hard not to lose track of the counting, especially if Dad was delivering a punchline.
The beer and cookies weren't as readily available at home, but he loved to celebrate a completed loop with a trip to the local bakery for a couple of sweet buns. As was the case with running, I didn't love the sweet buns.
But I loved sharing them with my dad.
I'm so glad you're able to remember some good memories with your dad. Thanks for sharing! I enjoyed the way you told this with the added humor of the repetitive "I didn't love..." throughout. Hope you think of other memories you haven't thought of in a while!
ReplyDeleteI can imagine what it must be like to lose track of the happier memories. My mom was the youngest of eight siblings, and the apple of her father's eye till he lost his fight to cancer when she was only fourteen. She has such few happy memories of him, it's sad. It's surprising how the influence of something like that stays with you lifelong, too. So, hold on to the happy memories, keep the painful ones as well, that was his life! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteyears pass by, what we cherish and remember are the memories we had with our loved ones. I thoroughly enjoyed reading your memory.
ReplyDeleteMy comments sometimes just won’t post when I read on my phone! Trying again…in case my first appears. I love a dad story. The repetition of not really loving to run, really highlights the love of spending time together. When you wrote about having your feet hit where yours dads hit, it made me think of trying to keep up with my dad’s long stride walking when I was little.
ReplyDeleteThe last line says it all ... memories are about the people. Love this sweet slice - says so much about who you are today.
ReplyDeleteI love this precious memory of your dad. Those little things are often the big memories in our hearts. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you have these memories to hold on to. They are really precious, especially when you can pass them on.
ReplyDeleteI love this moment. I appreciate the repetition throughout that makes it even more powerful.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful memory told simply with love!
ReplyDeleteYour post comes in a string of reminders about my dad so your hook about the same sort of inspiration for your slice caught my eye. Then the way you describe this thing you did together has me thinking of my own "Didn't love...but did love...." has me thinking about car washes. Thanks for the inspiration.
ReplyDeleteSo glad this sweet memory was sparked and written with such detail!
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