You taught me how to climb, to swing, to kick a football when I was a child. In a way those are the greatest gifts anyone's given me.
I seemed born with an instinct to climb. As a baby, I'd try to escape over the confines of my crib. Eventually you decided to teach me a way to scale the bars safely so I wouldn't fall on my head.
Soon I wanted to climb trees, especially a three-story giant in our yard. We were content swinging from the lower branches but you knew it was only a matter of time before we'd try to go higher.
"Stay close to the trunk," you warned, "The branches are stronger there."
As a struggling teen, that towering tree became my refuge.
I was about 11 the first time you let me go rock climbing and rappelling with the Army recruits. I loved going with you on those ROTC trips.
We'd never had an accident until Starved Rock. falling. slamming into the rocks. You tried to hide your fear but I saw it in the way your eyes never left me whenever I put on a harness after that.
I've lost my footing a little over the years...fear. falls. failures. But I'm ready to climb again, Dad. Thank you for teaching me. Happy Father's Day.
No comments:
Post a Comment