in the summer

Summer is approaching and almost every day, I miss my dad more.   It’s supposed to get easier, right?  Hurt less.  It doesn’t.  He was a summer man.  jeans.  tee shirt.  outside from right after work until dark.  On the weekends, all day.  sometimes late for dinner.  Never bothered by the heat.  And as kids, our summer vacations started with a couple hours in the garden.  Every day.  In Ohio heat.  even at 9:30 in the morning.  Absolute torture.  I don’t know what I learned from those mornings.  (To this day, I can’t grow anything).    But I would love to have just one of them back.  I would love to see my dad knelt down in front of a row of green beans.  Or just see him…


9 thoughts on “in the summer

  1. Oh, Ellen, Dad is there with you. In your writing, in your reflecting, in the quiet mornings when you and your camera are wandering, when you silently observe what is around you. Trust me Ellen he is there and he is happy for your life. Just remember to talk to him then listen. Then you’ll know. – Love you. Susan

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