While taking a break from cutting brush the other day, I enjoyed the perfect refreshment. Orange wedges. It was dry work and in the process, I also drank a quart of water but the orange wedges really hit the spot. I sliced them with the Mtech MX-8069, the knife that is like a woman’s purse – always at my side. Despite its dramatic thickness the blade sliced effortlessly getting sticky juice on my fingers. When I bit into the wedges, the flavor was superb.
Suddenly in my mind I could “hear” my dad’s voice recommending the oranges to me. He’s been dead now for almost three years but frequently his phrases pop into my mind. I won’t bother to quote what I’d “heard” because, as Franglais, it wouldn’t make sense. You’d have to know him; and to be authentic, it’d have to be delivered in his unique accent and intonation.
Such moments are pleasant remembrances. I miss both my parents and would so love to be able to talk to them again, catch them up on what’s happened. It wasn’t like I was remiss while they were alive. We knew time was finite and we acted accordingly. I called – towards the end – every day, visited frequently, we told each other we loved each other, and cherished the moments we had. But the circle of life rolls on and we can’t stop time. Like when my old “boys” neared their ends, we made the most of the present knowing it was ephemeral.
But dad’s lines aren’t ephemeral, they keep coming back and it’s a nice way to bring his memory to the present. So while I’d like nothing better than to quote them to him himself and we’d laugh, quoting them silently to myself is the best I can do. It’s a part of his legacy to me.