AN UPDATED VERSION OF AN EARLIER POST
When I was a boy my father was a Salesman driving all over the country. In those days, the roads were not as good, the emergency services fewer . Winters were often cold and snowy and we, like all kids hoped for blizzards which would close schools and bring sledging, snowballs and snowmen.
For me this childhood treat was tempered by the thought of Dad driving around in atrocious and dangerous weather. His frown and his obvious worry were palpable but no sales, no money.
I used to sit on his bedroom window sill for hours, listening to Bennett, Sinatra and Cole whose mellow crooning tones I found calming until finally, an amber flashing indicator light signalled that his car was at the end of the street.
The shadow of your smile sung by Tony Bennett
Waiting for Dad
A Small boy, sits curled in feline form, on the narrow window ledge.
the ancient glass,constantly by hand cleared of moisture delivers
an icy kiss on an unwary cheek.
The vague familiar scent of ‘Aramis’ aftershave, an elusive but comforting hint
of absent love. A red striped tie strewn on the bed bring mages of
him wearing his favourite blue.
A bedside clock ticks, mocking with it’s constant reminding,
providing a steady beat, marking a child’s mounting angst.
Outside odd cars gingerly inch by, the soon covered tracks
deny their passing while ice insects swarm in the glow of
And purest white bathed in strange hues by drama enhancing sodium
street lamps. Not a soul can be seen.
A ‘question fatigued’ mother with a perfected mask of nonchalance,
a young imagination running wild, heightened senses, straining,
a feeling, a knowing relief at the first glimpse of familiar form,
amber light, flashing an ‘all is well’ signal.
An excitement flooded voice announces “Mum, he’s back !”