My Father's Daughter
an abecedarian
Another day, another dollar, and other quotes
by my dad, ever cheerful, ever
chatty. He could get away with
dishing to waitresses and random female strangers and
every one seemed tickled, his word. Too old to be
fresh? Perhaps too tickled himself with
gladdening up these women he perceived as
harried, unhappy, or doing God's work.
I cringed. A feminist feeling neglected by his
judicious sprinkling of compliments and
kind words while I just wanted a
little conversation, a little Dad and
me time.
Not to happen, usually. And yet, he
opened doors, he coaxed smiles.
People loved him and tell me still,
Quite a remarkable gentleman, a
real sweet man.
Sometimes you have to look again,
turn your head a different way
until the picture changes.
Vexed for decades—
what slights I've nursed.
Extreme umbrage for tiny wrongs.
You might have your own to forgive
zealously, pitifully, or gratefully.
