wild at heart and sacrificial
I'm notorious for missing friends' birthdays. It's assumed I'll forget. Yet I don't miss immediate families. Ever.
Scratch that.
Couldn't believe it when I realized I'd missed my own mother's birthday yesterday.
Ruined my day.
Today was my good friend Paul's birthday, so I headed there for a cookout. I wanted to bring something, so I grabbed a cake on the way. On my way up the second flight of stairs at his apartment complex, I tripped. In slow motion I watched the cake slip out of my hands and through the gap between the stairs, dropping two flights of stairs into an explosion of raspberry mousse goodness. Oh, we lit the candles and ate what remained anyways.
Rough day.
It being Father' Day as well, I spent the evening reflecting on the indelible impression my parents continue to make on my life.
I'll always think of how wild at heart my father is, and how sacrificial my mother is.
I've got 50 stories in my hip pocket for both my parents. However, the image branded in my mind is of a particular soccer practice. I must have been in junior high. I was on a traveling team for several years and we'd practice twice/week. I was often the last to be picked up. With 15 minutes remaining, most parents would have arrived, patiently waiting in their vehicles before our release.
Practice ends. It's 8:00.
8:10. There are a few kids left.
8:20. 2 kids.
8:30. The coach and I.
8:35, the sound of a loud, racing engine in the distance. The van emerges from the hidden trees weaving through traffic. Couple honks. Tight turn. Screeching tires.
8:36. My father's sheepish grin.
One of the most special moment's I can recall with my mom was dancing with her on my wedding day. She wore a beautiful red dress. Kate and I danced to "It had to be You." The DJ's computer crashed after that, beckoning me to demand a song to be played immediately; any song.
So my Mom and I danced to the familiar tune, "It had to be You.":)
I'll never forget walking up to her though and seeing this bright, proud, loving smile. She was beaming. And that's how she always is when I see her to this day.
What more could a son ask for. Really. Truly.
Scratch that.
Couldn't believe it when I realized I'd missed my own mother's birthday yesterday.
Ruined my day.
Today was my good friend Paul's birthday, so I headed there for a cookout. I wanted to bring something, so I grabbed a cake on the way. On my way up the second flight of stairs at his apartment complex, I tripped. In slow motion I watched the cake slip out of my hands and through the gap between the stairs, dropping two flights of stairs into an explosion of raspberry mousse goodness. Oh, we lit the candles and ate what remained anyways.
Rough day.
It being Father' Day as well, I spent the evening reflecting on the indelible impression my parents continue to make on my life.
I'll always think of how wild at heart my father is, and how sacrificial my mother is.
I've got 50 stories in my hip pocket for both my parents. However, the image branded in my mind is of a particular soccer practice. I must have been in junior high. I was on a traveling team for several years and we'd practice twice/week. I was often the last to be picked up. With 15 minutes remaining, most parents would have arrived, patiently waiting in their vehicles before our release.
Practice ends. It's 8:00.
8:10. There are a few kids left.
8:20. 2 kids.
8:30. The coach and I.
8:35, the sound of a loud, racing engine in the distance. The van emerges from the hidden trees weaving through traffic. Couple honks. Tight turn. Screeching tires.
8:36. My father's sheepish grin.
One of the most special moment's I can recall with my mom was dancing with her on my wedding day. She wore a beautiful red dress. Kate and I danced to "It had to be You." The DJ's computer crashed after that, beckoning me to demand a song to be played immediately; any song.
So my Mom and I danced to the familiar tune, "It had to be You.":)
I'll never forget walking up to her though and seeing this bright, proud, loving smile. She was beaming. And that's how she always is when I see her to this day.
What more could a son ask for. Really. Truly.
posted by dcschmiddy at 9:29 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home