It was after Dad’s funeral

that my wife, Paisley, held

my hand as we entered

my vacant childhood home.

I asked to see it one last time

for closure or something;

what I didn’t know for sure.

I was in high school

when Dad lost his job,

and the bank ran us out.

Then Mom died,

and he went gone

in his mind.

Aside from the drapes

moving from a breeze

in the open windows,

everything left was

to the imagination

and I tucked memories

behind my eyes.

Dad’s recliner was there.

It was brown.

I swept my gaze,

and Paisley looked, too.

Dad would pull back

in his chair and watch

football games on the large

TV above the fireplace.

He’d get on me about

playing too loud.

I started seeing what the fuss

about games was all about.

I sat beside him in a matching chair.

He’d catch me looking at him.

Dad would laugh

and tell me to watch the game.

We grew up watching

football games and sermons.

One day,

Dad noticed a black eye,

and he folded his newspaper,

and brought me to the basement

to teach me how to fight.

He had a bag to punch from his

boxing days.

I got in a few more fights,

but I lost sleep over

no more bruises.

I asked Dad to watch

Wrong Turn.

He didn’t know why,

but he liked those movies.

In high school,

I played football,

and my parents cheered me on.

Mom had lungs on her.

Mom’s strength shouted

her down with an early death.

Lung cancer frowned

on loudmouths and smokers.

Dad fed on gin over rocks

in a streakless glass.

I’d come to check on him

now and again.

Dad told me to graduate from college.

That’s all he wanted.

I kept my end of the bargain,

but Dad left me without a high

but dry of this home.

I finished moving through the old home,

piecing framed pictures on the beige wall

and a Christmas tree in the corner.

I pictured the dinner table over there.

We’d laugh and eat.

Dad and Mom met several of my girlfriends

that they could see through, sitting

at that table.

But Paisley had Mom’s approval

and, by extension, Dad’s.

That’s when I knew I had made

their hearts proud.

Not just that I found a woman,

but that they put in me the will

to find a woman like Paisley.

Mom died before the wedding.

Dad died not long after.

I almost think he was waiting

for us to marry.

I moved my sleeve across my damp

eyes and told Paisley I was ready.

Paisley looked shocked.

“What?”

“Does he not know?” Paisley glanced at the realtor.

“He didn’t lose the home,” the realtor said. “He bought it for you.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

The realtor wore a dark blazer, matching skirt, and heels. She opened a folder and handed me the deed.

“We’re home,” Paisley said.

I embraced her. “We’re home.”

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040