Remembering

 

 

The truck tires made a humming sound on the black top,

my dad used to call these "oil roads"..

you only find them in Texas or Oklahoma..

I have been driving all night,

trying to get home before the morning.

The funeral was incredibly moving..

So many of my dad's friends came from all over Texas.

This morning I got up around 5:00 and went to the place he always ate breakfast..

I don't remember the name..

They had a picture of him in a frame by the register.

He had on a straw cowboy hat and he was smiling for the camera..

There were eight men sitting at a community table,

they had left the chair at the head of the table empty for my dad.

Every man stood and shook my hand when I came in..

then they started telling stories.

These men were from all walks of life.

One was a Texas Ranger, one a judge, one a farmer, a rancher, a doctor, a painter, a high school football coach,

and a teacher.

The stories they told were about a man I really didn't know very well.

They spoke of his generosity, his giving of his time and money,

his dry sense of humor, and his honesty.

The rancher talked about after a big summer storm,

how a huge oak had fallen on his barn;

my dad showed up one day and helped cut it up and haul it off,

how my dad got offended when he had tried to pay him something.

Story after story made me glad I got up and came in..

 

Jesse

East Texas

 

(wkm

nashville)
from the ongoing story, The Horses