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Saturday, August 13, 2016

"Origami"

Mom used to make a origami swans.  Us little kids gathered around in rapt attention as she folded the paper.  You know, that's when parents still had magic powers that we could only aspire to as we grew.

I should probably write something about Mom now but she hates that, and besides, I had a vivid dream of Dad this morning.  He told me something that I can't remember now, and then he sang.  It was like he hadn't sung in a long time; he was really rusty and his voice cracked.  He was young in the dream, younger than I ever knew him.  I noticed his crooked teeth and he acted self-conscious about my noticing.

I've been wondering things about Dad lately.  What did he feel and think?  What motivated him?  I've only written the pleasant memories of him on this blog, but our relationship was complicated, and I've been trying to put old issues to rest.

I wonder if he really came back to me in this dream, showing me his insecurities, letting me see what I didn't, couldn't see when I was a child fascinated by paper swans.  It didn't matter to me if Dad had crooked teeth.  I loved listening to him sing, and I assumed he could always belt out tunes with operatic quality and volume.

He was 45 when he died in a sudden accident when I was a teenager.  I never had the usual opportunities to know him more fully as I became an adult.  Who would he have become if he had lived to a ripe old age?  What would our relationship have turned out to be?  Would I like, understand, respect him?  Who would he vote for in the presidential election?  (I suspect the Green Party.)

I saw him as a completed picture.  I know he was skinny when he was young, but he was brawny and strong when I knew him.  He could do pushups from a handstand, even with a kid or two hanging on him.  He was charming and got along with everyone.  I saw women batting their eyes at him and never thought there might've been a time when he felt awkward with girls.

All of us carry the skinny (or fat or whatever) kid within our adult selves -- even parents, grandparents, teachers, and whatever other authority figure we meet when we're children.  All of us encounter a time when we look at our parents and think "that's cracked!" when they something that is clearly just plain wrong.  There's a time when we realize Mom and Dad aren't just taking a nap in the next room, and Grandma and Grandpa aren't napping either.

Then, there's the time that we see the crooked teeth and feel some sympathy and understanding that our parents are flawed humans, just like we've got flaws and insecurities.  We see the path they set us on when they controlled our lives is a path that we can choose to follow or not.  Origami swans are just paper, and we can fold them too.

Next time I dream of Dad I'd like him to sing like he did when we took cross-country road trips and when he was working in the garden... but even so, I thank him for letting me hear his voice when it cracked.

The tomatoes were on the counter when I took the swan pic
and I thought I'd share my garden happiness.
Nothing like a fresh, home-grown tomato!

15 comments:

  1. How awful to have lost your Dad so very young Linda....that must have had a profound effect on you. Good that you dream about him still...and fun to hear him sing. Love your home growns....there is nothing like it is there x

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    1. His death was profound for me, and while I wonder what our relationship would've been if he'd lived longer, I was old enough to be able to remember him in a fuller way than my little brother who was only 6. Sometimes it's just a matter of perspective, right? After all, he's the one who taught me how to grow tomatoes :)

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  2. Nice post, Linda. I don't remember you ever mentioning your dad here before and didn't know he died so young and suddenly.
    Fine looking tomatoes!

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  3. Just goes to show that I don't always see things the same way as others. I've felt that I've talked of Dad a lot, though maybe not for quite a while. Those tomatoes are eaten now, but more are coming. Yay!

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  4. Fresh tomatoes are so wonderful to have around. And so are dad's. I just created a dad post too! I bet he'd laugh at your crooked teeth memory. But those are the things we remember. Stirring post.

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    1. Thanks Sharon! Wishing everyone a dad and tomatoes :)

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  5. A beautiful post about the complex relationships most of us have to our parents. Over time we start to seem them as human beings with their positive and negative sides, don't we. I never really had much contact with my father when he was still alive, as he was always travelling. Then—as a boy—it's really easy to make him into a hero. But of course, he was "just" a human being, too.

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    1. That's a beautiful way to say this Otto. I never thought of traveling as an inherited thing, but maybe part of the thing about looking at our parents is that we see things about ourselves at the same time?

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  6. Such a thoughtfully crafted post, when too many cracks are becoming noticeable all around us. So grateful for those lovely tomatoes, such perfect summer gifts! :o)

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    1. Yeah, there are too many noticeable cracks lately :) I hope you're still getting tomatoes!

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  7. Great post. Oh how I wish I could come up with something interesting to comment, but I guess you'll just have to settle for knowing that your post is admired. :)

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    1. What could be better than a little admiration?! I appreciate the thought Nancy :)

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  8. Haven't heard from you in a while. Hope all's well.

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  9. Everything is fine, though I'll admit that it's been a stressful time. I apologize for disappearing without communicating, but I appreciate that you noticed and cared. Thanks!

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  10. Thank you for sharing this post. It triggers memories of childhood for me too...

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