
Credit: Merrit Thomas via Unsplash.
At 6:30 am. I’d plod waiting,
Eager for breakfast, for my dad to join,
To munch cereal or toast prior to work.
I don’t know all that we chatted about,
But, I was pleased just to sit there with him.
All day long mom entertained us,
Dad arrived late with papers to mark,
He had high school subjects to grade.
At Chapel once, my dad introduced us,
To his school when we were small, cute —
He worked hard, a chemistry teacher;
A vice-principal before finishing —
His M.A.; granted job as Principal.
His high school was a family one,
‘Eifert’ grads for generations.
That was along time ago; teaching —
With luck, came with long summer vacations;
Dad, took us swimming at Eastglen,
Later, camping, splashing at beaches;
Always, stopping for ice cream, and —
Then, jumping into the lake to float.
Sunscreen forty; icy pop in cooler,
We travelled to Washington,
Up the Oregon Coast, home through heated
Kansas; some years in the Okanogan,
Penticton, other locals of note.
Honeyed syrup in Summerland, fruit stands,
With veggies, apricots sweet, cherries, soft plums;
Salty Kettle Korn, with. succulent,
Nectarines, lettuce, cucumber, peas.
A vineyard viewed in-between, but —
Wine didn’t matter much; all summers flow,
as rivers — falling off a zip line;
Tubing down slippery water slides.
Sylvan Lake grass picnic lunches,
Grapefruit soda, corn-pop’s for Breakfast.
Sandwiches of mozerella cheese, ham;
Created in the back of the van, inhaled.
My dad and mom provided memories,
Dragging along three-kids, serving meals,
Despite kids screeching, crying, some injured.
Life’s a circus, my mind can’t fathom where,
Days flew, why we can’t remain in childhood’s
Perceived bliss, ethereal moments.
Flawed as we all were, my dad sacrificed;
I’m so grateful — to have such happy,
Childhood days while many lack experiences, dear.
Held close, as time ticks past; September,
Fall winds shout inside a woman lost.
©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.






















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