Sunday, June 17, 2012

a sunday kind of missing

someday I will go to New Orleans

on this Sunday after CBS Sunday Morning  & 
Meet the Press
Sunday . . . 
Sundays were reading the funny pages together, pot roast & golf-on-tv-days
sleepy nappy days ..
when I was very small
I would steal away to your bedroom with some treasured book &  fall asleep  -
my cheek waffle-printed from that nubby white bedspread
that smelled of Canoe & cigarettes 
sleepy nappy days ....
and yet today, I am thinking about all the things you saw in your lifetime ...
things beyond pot roast & Sundays :
your childhood, illness & fishing and that big brother you idolized ...
the complete wrapping love of your mother, and the brutal Irish-Love of your father, fishing, school, excelling in every sport you tried your hand at, poverty, and going to war,
your love of New Orleans, more fishing, how you extended your hand & your friendship across lines of color, crossword puzzles & reading and 
golf -  the lives you touched, the stories you unfolded, the generosity of your heart.
I miss you  ... not just a Sunday-kind-of-missing
but an every day kind of missing
it is a sleepy-nappy-Sunday-missing
that leaves it's nubby-white-waffle-print forever pressed upon my cheek & heart

someday I will go to New Orleans


  1. What a wonderful post, Susie! Sounds like he was a lovely man.

  2. a beautiful and meaningful dedication to your lasting love of your close and forever bond with your father...always with you...always...

  3. lovely Susie!

  4. Wow Susie such a beautiful poem..Sounds so wonderful...By the way I sure love this wall...all those sweet birds flowers and trees; so tranquil and inspiring...

  5. I love your prose because I could visualize it, sense it. I was there beside you on that nubby white spread.
    The work of energy and connecting, whether through butterfly wings or
    simply empathy, past becomes present.