I had the pleasure of having coffee with my father this morning. The fact that he died some years ago mattered not. As I sat in his old Morris chair, sipping the steaming brew in my mug, basking in the sunlight much like a contented Tabby, Dad's presence surrounded me. Sure, the Morris cushions have been rebuilt and reupholstered two, maybe three times since I came to possess the chair, still Dad's aura can be felt. Oddly enough, when I think about my ties to the chair, I realize that the chair initially belonged to my maternal Grandad. It was this same chair in which I napped while Nana cared for me whilst my mother worked. There is a man-made "indentation" in the right forearm, smoothed over by years and varnish, that my right-hand, index finger would trace over and over as a small child - and still finds its way there as part of my adult hand. Funny how childhood habits remain long into adulthood.
When I first sat down to have coffee with Dad, my goal was to speed-read the newspaper, then get on with my day. Somehow, settling into the familiar leather cushions and bathed in sunlight, my focus switched from "Damn the torpedos! Full speed ahead!" (A paraphrase of the famous order issued during the Civil War's 1864 Battle of Mobile Bay by Rear Admiral David Farragut.) to more of a Jamaican feel of laid-back tranquility. My total brain-wave activity morphed from lists into memories and reflections - ranging from remembering last weekend's Three Musketeers' visit (this brought warm, fuzzy thoughts) to the joy of sharing a hymnal with the eldest Musketeer, to Princess Leia running full tilt shouting, "Grandpa, Grandpa!", to little hands in mine, to our visit to the local children's Discovery Center where children far outnumbered the adults capable of keeping track of them. I still think it is a miracle that we went in with three children and came out with the same three.
Coffee with my dad lowered my pulse rate and blood pressure, as it always does. I was able to finish my prayers, enjoy the beauty of a snow-white winter's landscape, collect my ideas and garner several bits of important information from the newspaper. By then, my battery had recharged, my coffee was finished and Dad let me know it was time to get back to work.
Thanks, Dad.
Ancora imparo
