Sitting on the lawn by the lake at the 8th green. Watching the ducks scoot along the water. Oh look, a turtle pokes his head up piercing the glassy surface. Wondering if that golfer’s ball is going to land in the water, or the on the green. Chatter about all these things ripples along. The occasional question pops into our heads. “Did you hear about …?”, “What do you think about …?”, “Whatever happened to …?” Easy silences come and go.”Do you remember when …?”
Stories intersperse it all. I notice how the usual time-constrained let’s-short-cut-this with “yeah, you’ve already told me that …” is replaced with “sure, I’ve heard that one before, but please do tell me again”. There’s no pressing timetable, so why not rerun a good story.
The visit isn’t wrapped around any particular activity. No special meal. No task to accomplish. No topic to discuss. No decisions to be made. It’s just a visit. Time is suspended. There’s no rush to do anything or be anywhere else. The only cue that the day was moving along was the creeping shadow across the lawn.
I couldn’t have done this during the years of juggling career and kids. It’s taken a long time to be able to downshift and ease into an appreciation of a simple afternoon visit. It didn’t happen overnight. It’s a process. It’s rich. It’s beyond words. It’s wonderful. I’m thankful and blessed that my dad is there to share these moments with me.