but I just have to say that whenever I see a biker with a big belly, or spend time in the hot sun doing dirty, satisfying, muscle warming yard work, I really miss my dad.
We have our issues past and present, and I know I talk about my mother a lot more than I talk about him. It’s hard to be around each other sometimes and I don’t think that will ever change – we’re both too alike in some ways and different in other. But I love him, and I know he loves me, and it’s plain to see how much he worships his granddaughter. He’s taught me some things – and one of them is that hard work is in itself immensely satisfying. It centers you, it tells you your place in the world, it lets you make a mark. Hard work isn’t always about words, and numbers, and wit, and quick thinking. It’s also plodding, it’s heavy, it’s dirty and hot and solid. It’s sweat, it’s sore muscles, it’s tedious, and at the end of the day the reward is really loving on that cold beer, that hot shower, the feeling of clean and the ease of the couch. Really… drinking in and immersing yourself in the pleasure of knowing you’re done for the day.
I did some yard work and it wasn’t a monumental task, just a dusty and hot and heavy one. But it felt good to use my muscles for something other than hauling the baby and grocery bags around, to change my surroundings, to put a bit of order in my world, to get a little bit closer to making a nice safe place for my kid to play. It felt nice to work alone!
My dad always left things better. He was always tore things down, dug things up, ripped things apart, and built them back up. I remember lots of paint fumes, sawdust, cedar twigs… mess. I didn’t always like it but boy is owning a house work. I’m starting to realize just how much he’s done over the years to make our places nicer for us. I always knew it was a pleasure for him, and I used to really enjoy mucking about and lifting heavy shit and drinking beer and laughing and talking french and listening to him talk about his family and his work and all – but now I’m getting to experience that in a new way.
I can’t tell him these things, because… he just doesn’t go in for maudlin stuff I guess. And he’s really resisting the hearing aids that the doctor has reccomended – that is definately part of it! The language thing too – I could tell him all this in English and it wouldn’t really register… but I can’t quite say it in French because I’m not fluent enough. It’s hard enough to make sense of what I was thinking today here on virtual paper – I’m not a great writer and I’m a little high on cold medicine at the moment.
That’s enough for tonight. I’m beat. Hope everyone had a good mother’s day.