Monday, January 14, 2008

My Father

I like to imagine my father standing in an open hay field, the warm breeze lifting his dark hair and bringing the smell of sweet fresh mown hay to him. I can see his strong hands sifting the dry dirt, his blue work-shirt stained with sweat, his wiry body bent over his work. There is a look of contentment on his face, the look of what is pure and simple. The salt of the earth if you will.

My father passed away suddenly almost eighteen years ago but I can still hear his laughter, feel his arms around me and remember his love for me like it was today. He was a small man in stature but so very large in heart. All of his life he only wanted to have his small piece of land and to have the time to work it. He did acquire that land but always seemed to be lacking in time to do everything he wanted to do. He died a few months before his retirement.

I talk about this today because I had a dream about him last night. As I worked outside this afternoon planting garlic and generally cleaning up some things I felt his spirit with me so strong telling me to smell the earth, feel the soil and listen to the birds. I love my father.

4 comments:

Kristi said...

Vonda - you didn't tell me you had another blog - your are addicted! I love the post about dad - you make me miss him!

Junebug said...

That sounds so much like my dad who passed away last year. He so loved to be outside, working cows and horses, and planting a garden.

Jill said...

I always wish I could have known Grandpa better, the way Brian was able to. In the memories I have of him, he was always so happy and full of laughter and jokes. I can remember just being in awe of him. One of those childhood worship things, I suppose...

carrie & troy keiser said...

What a great tribute to your father, he sounds like a wonderful man!