So Was My Dad

'Dear, there's a picture of you at the old place, ' my wife said, as she reached down and pulled it from a box of black and white photos my brother had sent me. In the foreground there was a image of me as a young boy. I was wearing a checkered wool shirt, and black leather hat with fur ear lappers. I was smiling. Not one of those smiles you see on people when they are posing for the camera; I was looking up at my father who was talking to me through the open kitchen window. 'Do you remember what you were smiling about? ' my wife asked, I took photograph from her, trying to control the shaking in my hand. I looked deep into the eyes of my youth. 'I am not sure, there was a lot to smile about in front of that window, ' I said, talking through the flood of memories the picture invoked. Dad was always there, watching through the glass. Whatever I did, I could look up and see him beaming with approval. When I would come home late from a football game, he was there to discuss my triumphs, and console me when we lost. When I had problems in school, he was there. I grew up basking in the love that poured out through that window. 'Honey, here's another one of your old house after they remodeled it.' The window was gone...and so was my dad.