Today my parents drove down with a truck load of furniture. Nothing new, just things I needed that they weren't using anymore. When going over the list on the phone with Dad he asked "now, wait, why am I doing this again?"
My smart alec response "because you love me."
Laughing, "Oh, yeah, I guess you're right."
"That, and I'll make you lunch. And maybe cookies." He has a sweet tooth. It's genetic I think.
When I was a kid I wasn't always old enough or strong enough to help my dad with some of the chores. But I'd make lunch sometimes, often taking a picnic out to wherever he happened to be working on the property. It was a chance to hang out with him for a bit.
After unloading the truck today, we sat down and had lunch. Nothing too fancy. Ok, the wild rice with apricot was kinda fancy. It was nice to spend a bit of time catching up. Afterward, Dad fell asleep on the couch while Mom and I played Scrabble. I won, but I think she was going easy on me.
So I am now the caretaker of my dad's old bureau, some patio furniture, a table from my grandma that I don't think will be missed much but is a perfect fit in the kitchen, and a coffee table my dad had made when I was a kid. The coffee table is the same one I killed one of my front baby teeth on when I was 4 and has a small spot on the finish from where I left nail polish remover when I was learning to paint my nails. It looks pretty cute under the window. The place feels a bit more like home.
