What If Today…You Collected Stories?

“So every day
So every day
I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth
of the ideas of God,
one of which was you.”
~ Mary Oliver

A tribute to the last days spent with my dad who passed on January 25, 2013.

Squinting against the glare bouncing off the water’s ebb and flow, she edged closer to what she believed would be her prize for the day.

“Will you come and sit for a bit? Sit and tell me a tale or two?”

“Strange, “said the star. “Most of you collect us. Why not you?”

“Well,” she said, “I need to throw you back soon. You’re no good to me all dried up, you know. And,” she hesitated with a new and unfiltered thought, “I want to remember.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I’m nearly spent. We’d better begin. I’ve been here forever, you know? I’m ready to go.” He paused and she watched his thoughts carrying him away. “What do you want to know?” he asked, suddenly back for the conversation.

“I want to know what matters to you, of course,” she whispered with a teasing grin, making him squirm in her hands.

“What matters to me?” his voice sang, betraying the feelings in his heart. “Nobody ever asked me that before.”

He filled her with tales, hopes and dreams, some realized, others left for her to contemplate as she went on among the landlubbers after he was gone

As the tide hungrily nibbled at her toes and the suns rays dipped closer to the horizon, warning lights of pink and purple tickled the bellies of gulls circling for fish, reminding them that time was short.

“I don’t know if I’m ready. Are you?”

“Is anybody ever?” came the question whose answer lay waking behind rising tears and as the last hint of day stealthily crept away.

“Goodbye,” she smiled, cautiously stepping closer to the point of departure, relishing lasts.

One last look.

One last touch.

One last moment.

Finally , and yet not so much, they let go of each other.

Making their way home they gripped  freshly told tales, tucking them into the recesses of their hearts where the things that matter live.