The Old Clock

My Dad passed away 6 months ago.  I miss him terribly. 

Today I would like to share a memory.

It must have been high school, or maybe junior high, as we called it back then.  The teacher had assigned a descriptive writing piece in which we had to describe a room in our house.

I sat on the couch with my peanut butter and apple slices on the lamp stand, fuzzy gold and white cat next to me, and paper in my lap. I wrote, describing the living room.  Afternoon sun streaming in the windows.  Mom’s beautiful colored glass bottles sitting on the windowsill and catching the light.  The old clock on the wall, sad and silent from not being wound in a while.  The comfortable couches and cozy afghans.  The pretty red paint on the walls.

Dad was relaxing in their bedroom, so I took my paper back to him to read.  I came back out and curled up on the couch to read a library book.

Soon Dad came hurrying down the hallway, almost running.  He entered the living room, and he wound the old clock. He could not have given me a better compliment on my writing. 

Dad, I love you and miss you so much.  See you when I get to heaven.

Christa Upton   Black Hills Picture Books   Edgemont, SD  57735