Saturday, January 24, 2009
LISTENING TO MY FATHER
Last night as I was at the stove trying to make magic with chicken and onions, my father called, from the hospital, where he has been since Wednesday.
He seemed to be in a good mood despite the discomfort and boredom of the hospital room and was pleased to give me the latest doctor's report. Then he shared with me a poem he had just read: "Preservatives" by cowboy poet Baxter Black. He read the poem to me with accent and all, as if he WAS Baxter Black, sitting beside some small fire on an open prairie with horses snorting and coyotes calling.
I thought, this is a moment I don't want to forget. This is why I chose LISTEN for my one little word. There is nothing more important or beautiful or necessary than the sound of a father reading to his grown-up daughter over the phone.
"Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."
- Chinese proverb