by Tiffany Saunders
Didn’t you know I was waiting on you?
Little hands on the big front door
I was alone at home after 3
The phone would sing something shrill
Daddy called me from the station
“On my way” was enough for me.
Always.
My dad fell in at 8, at nightfall
Little me only came up to his waist
I remember it all.
Today I’m still asking for something for my pocket
Back then it was just a dollar
But these days I try to give back.
Dad looks to me now
His only job now is not to get sick
“I’m alright” was enough when I was young
I had nothing in my head then.
See how those wrinkles live off him?
See how they steal his years?
Worries grab at ankles weak from use
But those feet keep rhythm
His face is mottled, weathered, worn
But his grin still stretches proudly across
The gap in his front teeth mirrors my own.
I tell him I’ll do it all.
His only job is not to get sick
Heavy arms ‘round his waist while I plead
Take care, Dad.
