My dad’s main parenting objective was to make memories.  He created them with variety, skill, and simplicity.

He walked with me. In hindsight, our most precious amblings were the modest ones; the everyday stroll to the bus stop.  We conversed like peers and discussed the color of the dawn, friendships and school work. I felt equal as he lectured and philosophized.

He was funny too, sometime ridiculous. Our barking spiders could be fierce. My parents’ coconut cream pie wars. He crashed, splashed and then sailed into the bay not to return for hours when he taught himself to windsurf. His untethered laugh conquered our house.

He repeated himself.  “Life isn’t fair,” was constant. “Your friends are not your friends.” He commanded me.  “Do what you say,” and “Honor your word,” were built into his heart. He transferred them to me neatly.

Now, I deliberately make memories with all his tricks and more. They are all that are left of love.

 

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C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.