I’ve been trying to capture something in writing that my head keeps pushing around every corner. While it must have seemed strange to someone watching me, those weird glances just showed how uncomfortable I was with the entire process. Finding my own version of “She walks in beauty…”, something that helped celebrate her as much as me has been difficult. My ego doesn’t require having someone pat me on the back, rather I’m more likely to shrug off that very hand. The closest I have ever allowed anyone to celebrate me falls on my birthday. Even then I’m still confused as to how one should react. My big plan for celebration the day I finished my Doctorate, I was still working for the bookstore, so I went into work and that was my day. Walk a stage, walk the floor the rest of it.
Trying to clear my mind of Father’s Day I thought watching some stupid comedy on The Disney Channel would just be enough. A remake of a program I remember from years ago. Well that was a huge mistake. The theme might not have been outright Father’s Day, but damn did it pull at every ounce of emotion I had left. To make the situation that much more macabre, Lary decides it’s a good idea to watch the rebroadcast later. Not one of my finer moments!
Fortunately that whole Massachusetts thing allows for me to plant something later in the season and hope that it catches. When I’m done making my daily recognition of my silly mind, I plan to put a rose bush in my friend’s backyard. The flowers are purple, an acknowledgement of a different time and history. Odd choice for the day, not the beer/tool/golf commercials that so engender what people think father’s want. [okay I sent my father some grill stuff] By the end of the summer it should easily be as tall as I, and here’s where I put the laugh, just hopefully nowhere near as thin!
I love my daughter, everything about her. That’s what I’ll be thinking about tomorrow and trying to make it through the day. Father’s Day or even some random Tuesday would have always been about her anyway!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Festivus for the Rest of Us.”