Father’s day comes in many shapes and sizes. When it comes to my family (and specifically my father) those shapes and sizes are large, chaotic and loud. I don’t think he would want it any other way, or that we could deliver it any other way.
For Father’s day the whole clan gathered in one place, under one roof (for lack of a more poetic word, this was the sky). It was loud with ages ranging from less than one to 74, all shouting to see who could garner the most attention. while the little ones were not able to draw in the crowds with volume, they did so with cuteness.
Of course, for Father’s day, many of us did chores around the house that were designed to help my father out. We cut trees, piled wood, transported waste to the place where the waste goes (using an old, and very unstable wheelbarrow), and basically took care of things we could do. With all of us working, it didn’t take long and we got a lot done.
It would be easy for me to point to any part of this miracle afternoon as perfect. Heck, if I really wanted to, I could point to the whole day and say it was perfect. The only problem with that, it just doesn’t seem to be what this blog is about. This blog’s purpose was to find the perfect, hidden in plain sight. This blog’s purpose was to revel in the normal things of the day.
Really, the day was great, but all family get-togethers seem to be like that–and this includes the ones that almost broke out into fist fights. (Yes, I used the plural. Yes, that means there was more than one) No, the Perfect Moment was more subtle than that.
When everyone had departed, and carted off the remains of the food and drink, I stayed back and watch the baseball game with my Dad. Actually we watched the baseball game and the golf (My father is a fantastic channel surfer). We also finished off the daily crossword together. Who said men can’t multi-task?
It is these quiet, not planned to be amazing, moments that I find amazing. Thanks Dad.