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| I almost see him there, on the weathered edge of the bench. He was this tree to me, the far reaching branches that sprung freely from the hearty trunk firmly rooted here. I am on the opposite bench believing I am in his shadow, unknowingly having become the tree. He has always been the roots that have kept me strong and upright. Dad, you've always been MY tree. |
It's October and, as always, it is a bittersweet time. The month my dad was born, my parents were married and the month my dad died. I don't remember how colorful the trees were that day or if it was cold or rainy. It could have been a day with bright blue skies and many orange, yellow and red leaves falling but I don't remember any of that. With the internet I guess I could actually look that up but I don't really care. Not today. In my mind it is still one of the darkest days of my life. Someday I might want to know if the sky was as blue as it is today and as colorful as today’s autumn day.
I do remember his hand, holding his hand and commenting to myself that it was 'my hand'. I had never noticed how my hand looked just like his hand. It still had some of the signs that he hadn't long been away from raking and cleaning up the fall yard and gardens. He would always rather be outside than inside and once it got to be too cold outside he would be in the workshop. He needed to keep his hands busy to keep pace with how his brain worked. Most often fast and furious and never stilled. He was generally planning the next project far before the current ones were ever completed.
My dad, my heart. I feel close to him especially among the trees. Not that I planned my walk at all today at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum Generally I follow my eyes and my ears and make my way. Today though, today, it seemed as though Dad was there, Dad was taking that walk with me. Taking me to the places with the trees he wanted me to see, the ones I remember he talked about. Make no mistake, he loved his trees. I spent a longer than normal time walking among the trees today! His great appreciation for trees made me a lover of them as well. Trees are meant for playful squirrels which must be why I saw even the white one today! Dad's squirrels were all named Charlie, that's just the way it was. My hubby wasn't offended. Dad didn't really realize he had named his squirrels after my hubby for many years. The day he had the voila moment he did apologize to Charlie and wanted to change the squirrel's name. My recollection is that the name Charlie the Squirrel stayed.
There were the bog Tamaracks that were shedding, the maples that were dressed in yellow, orange and red, the mighty oak that made the hymn, How Great Thou Art, come to mind! He liked that hymn. There were the areas of trees dressed in his beloved Green Bay Packers colors of green and gold. I believe I walked with my dad today and I think I heard a chuckle over the squirrels of white, red, grey and brown. Maybe that was just the plundering turkeys!
