I'm that dad, again

I watched him hustle around his van as I eased out of the parking stall.

He glanced my way and yanked the latch on the minivan, the rear door drifted up.

I noticed a weary, hurried look in his eye.

He reached inside and like pulling a rabbit from a hat, he flipped open a full sized stroller.

I put the truck in drive and as I pulled away, I glanced one more time in the rear view mirror and witnessed that dad’s weary eyes transform into a smile.

He kissed his child’s bald head and eased him into the stroller.

I drove away, but my heart stayed. My oh my, how time flies…seems like yesterday, I was that dad. I drove along and felt a twinge of sadness—a yearning for a chance to go back and do it over—better. Slower. Focused more on making memories than money. To see my kids smile, feel their hugs, hear their giggles.

I don’t remember driving there, but I parked in the old familiar stall.

I hustled around to the back of the truck and yanked the rear latch, the tailgate drifted down. I took a weary breath, and reached inside. Like pulling a rabbit from a hat, I flipped open a full sized walker. I pushed the walker to the side and opened the passenger door.

Dad’s chin rested against his chest.

I pulled a bandana from my back pocket and wiped the drool from his bottom lip.

His eyes fluttered and he lifted his head with a sleepy smile.

He shifted his feet, slow and easy, first to the running board and then to the ground.

As he leaned over to place his hands on the walker, I kissed the top of his balding head, and realized…

I am that dad, again. And, I suppose, if I survive, someday soon...

I'll be that child. 

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Like new parents…we wade into uncharted waters when we become our parent’s caregivers. It’s scary and new and exhausting and frustrating and time consuming, heart warming and heart breaking… and one of the best gifts of love a person can give.

Can you relate?

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