filed in What Gets Me Through the Day
Thinking about my Dad
My father made his way through life eating carbs. He began each morning with a slice of buttered rye toast that was cut in half diagonally by my mother and placed in the middle of a napkin on top of the plate. He had a sandwich for lunch, except on the weekends, when he would eat a piece of layer cake instead. After dinner, he’d help himself to a few scoops of chocolate ice cream. My Dad was slim and graceful, and weighed the same at 80 as he did in his youthful army days. It is from him that I inherited a love of all variations of spaghetti, potatoes, bread and cookies. And the icing on the cake? I got his skinny genes.
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The smell of my grandparent’s house is dark toast and strong coffee from a stove top percolator. They’ve been gone for years, but my mom lives in their house, and even though I know it doesn’t smell like that anymore, I swear I smell it when I walk in the door. Same way I sometimes swear I hear the sound of shuffling cards first thing in the morning – my grandfather used to wake up before the rest of the household (owing to years working the early shift at a factory) and play solitaire until everyone else got up. I spent many pre-dawn hours learning how to play cards when I “snuck” out of bed to hang out with him.
That’s a beautiful memory.
Lovely.
He was such a sweet man. And excellent taste in food.
What a wonderful memory!
He was my ultimate cheerleader, and when he died I thought, there will never be anyone who’ll love me like that. I’m so lucky to have had such a sweet Dad.
That’s what I thought when my grandfather died. We spent many mornings sitting in the kitchen eating cornflakes before anyone else got up. I still have his cereal bowl.
That cereal bowl must be a treasured artifact.
Lovely memory!