Motorcycle

Take me for a ride, Daddy.

I hear you rumbling up the hill of the driveway
And I run to you, arms up, face hopeful.

You lift me up to sit in front of you.
I smell gum, leather, gas and oil, and this
Is how a man should smell to me, still.

I hold the handlebars, leaning into the breeze, and try to remember to
lean in, not away.
Trust. Exhilaration. Adventure.

Movement zips the green world flying by,
for the sake of joy and pleasure,
Not getting somewhere, but being together.

Do you know, Daddy, that every day we are together still?

My feet are the wheels and my heart the machine
But still I am out here, breathing, moving,
Living for today and grabbing it by the balls because “it’s not a dress rehearsal.”

Indeed.

You are so right.
I hear you every day.
I want to be like you:

Mighty, passionate, committed to what’s right
Unfazed by a differing opinion
Sitting back in my chair after a sweaty morning of work with a beer and liverwurst
with a rakish grin and greasy hair, saying:

“It’s good to be the king.”

God, give your grace to him.
Give him strength, like he has gifted to countless with his example and his energy.
Give him joy, as he has cracked up thousands over a lifetime, just for the fun.
Give him hope, as he has pushed others to have faith in themselves to rise and excel.
Above all, give him this most true thing:

My father is a hero
A warrior
A healer
An inspiration
A force of nature
And the reason I still show up

For the ride.

SJR, June 2022
Sara Jane Romano (All rights reserved)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.