Monday, December 12, 2011

one hundred word story #55: Dad

You run in the evenings, long after dark. You line the counter with mason jars of fresh pesto and pomegranate jelly. I cost you more than you’ll say—the boxes of needles under the stairs are proof enough. Once, when I was abroad, you called late at night to make sure the world hadn’t broken me yet. But that’s just it. Everything I break, you fix; sometimes with epoxy, sometimes by running past turkeys in the rain, clearing the trail before I get there myself. Someday I’ll make you dinner. Clear your path. Who knows, maybe we’ll get there together.


shannon said...

what a beautiful tribute.

happy birthday indeed. :)

mikko said...

your words are more than just words, as always... Give your dad a birthday day high-five for me please!

miss J. said...

thanks! this means a lot, coming from another master-of-fixits. hope to see you and malee around!


gteamhj said...

Oh what fun! As Mikko says, your words are more than just words. xxx