Reading Dad

In your mind you can still see him there, though it's been so long ago, leg rest up high, long legs stretched out in contentment, his feet hanging over the end, for no piece of furniture could ever fully contain him. Reading another book, his great desire, and you, so small, would run up, jump in his lap and giggle with pure delight, and he would look down, hug you and smile, speaking the words you wanted to hear, "I love you". Right then and there you knew as surely as the printed words on the pages of the books he so tenderly embraced that you were (and are) loved. Not just in the moment that you could read it in his face, but forever; even when he, like a great novel was finished, and put upon the shelf of memories. Now, each time you glance up there recalling him like a cherished old book, you remember the words, you feel again the joy and warmth, and you smile and read the title: Dad.