20 January 2007


            My Father Growing Old

            I imagine him getting up early to make
            his own coffee. Reading the papers.
            No plans for the day. Turning on the radio
            a little louder than it has to be.
            Alone at home. Then the phone ringing,
            he goes to answer it and finds me
            on the line. His son, a grown man now,
            calling from another country, increasingly
            distant, more and more a stranger.
            The call cheers him up, nonetheless.
            He says, “How are you? How’s everything?”
            He really wants to know. He is my father,
            after all. He is growing old. But I don’t
            know where to start. I want to tell him that
            I love him and that I’m sorry I have to
            live my own life now. But these are not the
            things I know how to say from a distance.
            These are things I may never learn to say.
            So instead we speak of smaller daily things,
            and soon the brief connection between us
            will unmake itself, and expire.
posted by Gilbert at Saturday, January 20, 2007 13 comments