Whenever I get a chance to spend some time with Dad, it’s always worth it, so when I offered to take a day off and stay with him while Mom did some Christmas shopping, it was a lovely use of some earned vacation hours. Arriving in Amsterdam in the morning, I brought a book and some split-pea soup and bread for their dinner. Mom had made a batch of asado that I only needed to re-heat for lunch. She headed out and I settled in.
The day was chilly and windy, but inside the house where I grew up it was cozy and warm. Sun streamed in through the windows and would gradually shift as the day wore on. I remembered the way it moved through the house, how certain rooms came into their own glory depending on the time of day and year, and whether the sunlight was strong or hidden. On this morning it was happily strong, shining and illuminating the house in which I suddenly remembered the trajectory of a day.
Dad was more engaged on this morning, even though Mom said he’d had a restless night. We watched the morning news programs for a while, then he sat in his chair and perused a photo book I’d made for them on our trips to Ogunquit.
He picked up the newspaper when it arrived, probably more out of habit than anything else, but habitual actions aren’t bad. I reminded him to do his exercises, and he gamely got up and walked around the downstairs a couple of times. I brought him some apple juice, and then had him do another walkabout. He settled on the pull-out couch and took a quick nap, while I stepped outside to do a walk around the yard. Even in the winter, there was beauty here, as evidenced by these evergreens and their dangling pinecones – the promise of another spring to come.
Coming back inside to the warmth, I saw that Dad was still asleep, so I started to fix lunch, then sat down in the living room to read. It was pleasant and peaceful there, quiet and still and cozy with the throw blanket Mom had left on the couch. I recalled those days of childhood when I was home sick and Mom and Dad had to go out working – the house was in the same state of stillness and peace as the sun moved in and out of the rooms as the day went along.
On this day, it felt like a refuge again, a bit of relief from the insanity of the world and the work place, as much as break for me as it was for Mom, who was itching to get out in the opposite way. Dad came into the kitchen for lunch and we ate as the sun poured in from the front window. He took another quick nap after lunch, then was up until Mom returned.
It was a day marked by happy memories of the past, and gratitude for the present.
