“Dad? Can we light my candle?” Jack asked me yesterday morning.
I looked to the clear mason jar on the hutch in the living room. It was magnificent. The lid was dotted with toy gems, while the innards of the jar were filled with colored granules in a red/white/blue flowing pattern. Jack’s handiwork had been sitting there long enough for the candle to be invisible to my eyes over time. “Sure,” I said, despite it being the middle of Summer with the temperature hanging around 80. “How come?”
“We were never able to use it after I made it, because of Grandma’s oxygen machine.”
The man was finishing his ice cream cone as we walked in.
Dressed for Sunday, he was clearly enjoying it while sitting by the window in the sun. The store was busy, and the server scurried around behind the ice cream counter scooping and mixing. As she began cashing out a customer, she stopped suddenly and headed to the door – where the old man was about to leave. Thanks for coming, she said to him – touching his arm slightly as only as friend would do. After finishing the customer’s transaction, she started to cry before helping us.
“That man? His wife just passed away. He came and ordered a cone for each of them and ate both.”
She wiped her eyes. “Sorry,” she said smiling. “It’s totally fine,” I said back.
One August afternoon my future walked through the apartment slider in Pullman WA, looking for my roommate. On that day we hung out, had dinner, and went to see Dirty Harry in The Dead Pool. After four months as friends we began dating. Two weeks later we got engaged. In a bar. Ten months later we were married in Seattle.
“Look Dad,” my son David said several years ago, “It’s a Fur Car.” He was looking at a juiced up Honda or Nissan at the time. “Why do you call it that?” I asked. “Because when they drive by you … Continue reading →
“Hey Dad,” Jack said to me while he scootered to school, “if you want to get exercise and lose weight – no offense – we could do this every Monday!”
His school is about a mile from home.
With his short legs and prosthetic limb, that distance would take over an hour and wear him out to the point of exhaustion if he were to walk. He had been talking about scootering to school all weekend, and this morning he insisted once again. I first said no, because the weather was changing and I was fearful that it would take too too long. Then I saw an article link in my FB describing how a father hauled his disabled son up to the top of an amazing outlook in a National Park because he thought his son would like the view – a trip that would have been impossible for someone with his disability. ‘Jeez Kurt,’ I thought after that, ‘get out the dang scooter.’