January and February are quiet days of contemplation and nostalgia for me as they may be for many of us in the north. The sun is hesitant to appear on some days, temperatures dip, we are housebound because of cold and snow and wind. These are good days to make soup, watch movies and remember.
My parents were married on February 3, 1940 and celebrated their love every year following until 2006 when, less than 2 weeks before their 66th anniversary, my father died. Both my parents were of sturdy Germanic constitution and though they were slowing down, we were surprised at my father’s sudden departure. Our parents were still enjoying tranquil days together, visits with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, meals and outings with friends. Our family reunion in 2005 was a celebration of Dad's 90th birthday and Mom's and Dad's 65th wedding anniversary. Every day began for them with breakfast and morning prayers and ended with a goodnight kiss and “I love you.” I don’t know if either of them really believed that one would leave and one would be left behind. Two and a half years later, 2008, my mother re-joined my father in everlasting love.
“red skies” is for you, Dad.
My parents were married on February 3, 1940 and celebrated their love every year following until 2006 when, less than 2 weeks before their 66th anniversary, my father died. Both my parents were of sturdy Germanic constitution and though they were slowing down, we were surprised at my father’s sudden departure. Our parents were still enjoying tranquil days together, visits with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, meals and outings with friends. Our family reunion in 2005 was a celebration of Dad's 90th birthday and Mom's and Dad's 65th wedding anniversary. Every day began for them with breakfast and morning prayers and ended with a goodnight kiss and “I love you.” I don’t know if either of them really believed that one would leave and one would be left behind. Two and a half years later, 2008, my mother re-joined my father in everlasting love.
“red skies” is for you, Dad.
red skies
I was a baby, my brothers unborn,
when first he went to sea
Navy vessels took him
through perilous waters, to distant shores
his wife and infant daughter
enfolded into the family bosom
waiting, praying
when tranquil days returned
his watchful eyes trained us
to trust the skies, to believe the winds
to steer along quiet river banks or
run the rapids
unfurl the sails and race
as one with wind and waves
“red skies in the morning, sailors take warning,
red skies at night, sailors delight”
was our weekend mantra
that imperceptibly receded
into drifting clouds
as our grown-up lives took us
far from his shoreline and
we trusted evening news to tell us
of northern blizzards and hurricanes in the south
rarely looking to the skies and the winds
we missed the signs
the lowered mast, the flattened sails,
the wooden hull with fading paint and fissures
more often moored in its slip
than tacking and coming about on
open waters
even drives along the shoreline
becoming a dimming memory
until that Sunday morning
when we joined our mother
on her widow’s walk,
we had not known nor even imagined
that before the dawn,
the aged vessel would move silently
into the red sky
sails unfurled,
spinnaker catching the sun and wind,
a single star rising on the golden horizon
at the edge of the sea
©2 february 2017
pab
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