This Morning I Hugged My Dad

This morning I hugged my dad,

Connecting two realms: the living and the dead.

It was evening and I stepped into my yard

After chasing a lost Servel fridge

To boxes of holiday decorations laid upon the fallen

Golden, red, and orange Autumn leaves.

A white tarp was pulled tightly across the roof

And the sky was aglow

From hundreds of twinkling white lights.

It isn’t time for Christmas decorations, I thought with a huff,

The leaves have just begun falling.

I was unsettled.

My husband’s never been one for projects like this.

Treading across the crunchy leaves to the house

My Dad stepped out of the shadows

With Christmas lights in his arms.

He’s the last person I’d expect to see

Standing at a house he’s never been.

He said she’d like it if my house was brighter,

Holidays were so much warmer than any average day.

Who was this she? A new girlfriend or Mom?

This morning I hugged my dad

Because he’s been gone so long.

I whispered in his wavy hair how my boy is just like him:

The blue-grey eyes, the endless legs, the calm soul, and foot-long piano fingers.

He held me tightly and said he knew.

And then he was gone—but his touch lingers:

The feel his arms, his warmth, and his chin resting on my head.

The sun filtering through the golden leaves

Does nothing to console me.