A birthday poem for my Dad.
I can imagine myself, as a 45 year old, still full of life and powering on.
I can imagine myself coming home from work, earlier than the usual to help the kids with a project.
And I have no clue how to help them (I assume because it’s math) so I call the one person who will always know.
I can imagine myself at 55 staring at myself in the mirror, accepting how evidently age has caught up with me, maybe wondering if I will ever feel like a little girl again.
So I call the one person who will always know.
Good ol’ Dad.
And when I was a little girl,
I could imagine and dream like the world was my blank canvas.
In black and white
In mono chrome,
In many ways I tried to uncover.
Fast forward to now, and those dreams have turned to reality, because I called upon the one person who always knew.
I can imagine a lot of things. I can take on another deep ocean or traverse another steep mountain,
But there will always be an ‘X’ to my equation.
So I’ll call on the one person who has always known, and always will know.
My good ol’ Dad.