A wholesome bit of slice-of-life where a son recalls a fond memory of his father.
It was a nice Summer's day when my Dad and I were sitting by the lake fishing together. I must have been ten or so but I remember it like yesterday. Warm Summer, cool breeze, the amber of the sunlight through the clouds draping the rich green leaves. The lake reflecting the light -- a pure transparent greenish-blue heaven. It was perfect. Some files buzzed about and we enjoyed their hum, despite them being flies and you are supposed to swat them.
I looked up to my Dad and said, "I call mine Adidas."
He looked at me all puzzled.
"These new shoes you got me, Dad. I call them Adidas. See," I said pointing at the logo on the side of the shoe.
Dad just smiled.
"What do you call yours, Dad?"
He looked at me squarely in the eye and said "Crocs."
It was a nice Summer's day when my Dad and I were sitting by the lake fishing together. I must have been ten or so but I remember it like yesterday. Warm Summer, cool breeze, the amber of the sunlight through the clouds draping the rich green leaves. The lake reflecting the light -- a pure transparent greenish-blue heaven. It was perfect. Some files buzzed about and we enjoyed their hum, despite them being flies and you are supposed to swat them.
I looked up to my Dad and said, "I call mine Adidas."
He looked at me all puzzled.
"These new shoes you got me, Dad. I call them Adidas. See," I said pointing at the logo on the side of the shoe.
Dad just smiled.
"What do you call yours, Dad?"
He looked at me squarely in the eye and said "Crocs."
No comments:
Post a Comment