Reign On

"Want a brewski?" asks my dad, as he hands me a warm Miller Lite. The fridges are gone. The food is gone. The beds are gone. Everything, frankly, is gone. All that's left is the coffee maker, sofa, & tv. ...Which aren't really of any use at all, because, right along with everything else, went the pleasure & false security found in distraction. He twists open his bottle cap with his shirt. I hand him mine, with no desire to try, rathering he just as well do it for me. He does, and we head out to join the neighbor on his back patio. Drowning our sorrows, dad calls it. I'm not real sorrowful, just walking through. I've had my share of sorrows to take to the Lord. hahaha, although, watching that boat roll away was something like sorrow. Maybe sadness. Maybe a goodbye? Can it be that simple? I think so. I smile just thinking about it. The fellow kept dropping hints about how he'd better get on the road, thanks for everything etc etc... I think dad & I were both hearing the gentle intentions behind the cold, hard truth of his words, "I'm leaving with your boat now," so we just nodded & smiled, unable to say the words, "Yeaaap, get-along, now! Have a blast with her! Bye!" As he pulls away, dad & I wave, & I mutter, "...Send...pictures.." We laugh, trudge back to the garage (boathouse), and carry on with our packing business.

In the morning, after sharing the L-shaped sofa, he wakes me up to the news he's gotten Krispy Kreme (our favorite breakfast together..from all our road trips etc..) This is good news! And boy do a few drips from those individual milk bottles liven up the ever-so-black coffee! So it's another day. Of packing. Mental packing. It's what we do. We rearrange & make piles until we're blue in the head, feeling we have a grasp on what's happening. West pile, kitchen: trash. East pile, back room: goodwill. North pile, back room: storage. I love my dad. I love him. He is beloved. I am quiet. It's all I know how to help. Calm. Yea, I'm feeling it too, that's what this is about.

In less than a month, I'll be living in a suite above a Christmas Tree Farm, in Langley, British Columbia, Canada, with 3 other ladies. I'm type-less. Jesus. I don't understand why you would let me? Me. I'm nothing. Why would you lead me forth in triumphal procession? You make me victorious. Me. Nothing. Synonyms. Ahh, my King. Reign on!

Urban Dictionary just informed me that 'brewski' is "the way us Canadians say beer." : ) hah, no wonder it struck a chord in my psyche. I liked it, and its resonance has been bouncing to-and-fro inside my head since Thursday. Brewski. To me, it's flippant, light, & playful.