Everyday I go to work and unlock the door to enter my classroom, I begin a routine. I turn on the lights, of course, check the walls where I have my weekly lessons listed to make sure I have everything ready. I set my briefcase on my desk and I grab my empty coffee mug before walking over to fire up the two old computers (it takes them a while). Then swing to the back of the room and and flick the switch that lights powers up the lamp (with a UVA bulb) that's focused on the plants.
That last step reminds me of my dad. Then I go and get coffee in the faculty room and get ready for the day. During the day, the potted plants are always in the background. I don't usually focus on or think about them, or him. But sometimes I do.
Just one way I remember.
Was he a perfect father? No, but then again, neither am I. Who ever is or was. But he did always care and he did want me to enjoy my job as a teacher, which I do. So it's a connection for me, and I remember.
I move the plant to a classroom with a window every summer (yep, my classroom doesn't have one), and stop in to water the plants in the big pot once a week. The action reminds me of him--usually a brief snippet of a memory. Just a routine and how I do things.
In any case, I thought it on Thursday when I went into work, and I'll be thinking the same thing today: Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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Terry, Thank you for sharing. I to had a plant from my father's funeral, unfortunately it didn't survive. My father wasn't perfect, not even close, but we love the ones who gave us life, no matter the situation.
ReplyDeleteHappy Father's Day,
Cher
My wife has a plant that is still alive from when her father died when she was 8 years old. Plants do better around here I guess.
ReplyDeleteIt's never easy to lose a parent at any age, but younger, I think, is definately more difficult.