I wrote this in honor of Father’s Day…..

I remember hot, sticky summer nights when, after dinner and the dishes done, we’d run outside, jump on our bikes and ride up and down the street together, giggling and laughing out loud until dark. We didn’t care that we were sweaty or that there was dirt under our fingernails or even that there were smudges on our faces. It was summer and that was what summer was all about…dirt and sweat.

I was the third child of six and wore and played with more “hand-me-downs” than one can imagine. I wore my sister’s old dresses, remade to fit me, rode my brother’s old bike, and was always the last to pick the piece of fried chicken at dinner….of course, after my two older siblings had already chosen the coveted drumsticks, leaving me the meatless wings.

It wasn’t that I felt sorry for myself. I don’t think I really knew anything else so it wasn’t a big deal. But I do remember asking mother if, just once, my Easter dress could be a new dress from the department store. I would imagine what it would be like to wear a dress with shiny sequins around the hem and black patent leather shoes on my feet. No, she told me. Not with all of Mary’s clothes that could remade to fit me. The dresses she made for me were nice but not nearly as nice as a new dress would be.

I never thought of us as being poor. We just were what we were. We were never hungry, we got bathed on Saturday nights so we’d be clean for church the next morning, and there was always a warm “good night” from Daddy standing in the doorway of our room. No real hugs and kisses, but then we didn’t know we were missing those.

A few years later, as it came closer to my 10th birthday, I told Daddy that all I wanted was a new bike. It was silly because I knew that again I’d get some of Mary’s old clothes. The fabrics would give away their history despite their new life. I’m not sure why I got my hopes up every year because it was always the same.

My birthday happened to land on a Saturday so Daddy grilled hamburgers and mother made potato salad and a wonderful cake. When dinner and the dishes were done, I opened a few gifts. There was a dress from Mary’s old jumper, a doll that had long lost its hair and a new jumping rope from the neighbor lady who had made it for me from a retired clothes line but no new bike. Trying hard not to act disappointed, I took the rope and went out to jump on the front driveway. I was out there about 20 minutes when I heard Daddy call me from the backyard.

I was going to ignore him. After all, dinner was done, the dishes were done, and it wasn’t bath time yet. But then he called again. I turned and, with head down and shoulders slumped, walked through the carport and through the breezeway.

I took about three steps into the backyard when I heard, “SURPRISE!!!” My head came up and my eyes caught a big red bow underneath which was the shiniest red and white bicycle I’d ever seen. I remember squealing and dropping my jump rope on the patio. It was the most beautiful bike I’d ever seen and, best of all, it was new! Not Jerry’s, not Mary’s but mine, all mine. I stood staring for what seemed to be an eternity and then looked up at Daddy. He was grinning from ear to ear, nodding his head to confirm that it was really mine.

That bike blazed a new trail in my relationship with Daddy. I would meet him when he’d get home from work each day and we’d walk the yard together holding hands while waiting for dinner to be ready, looking at whatever flowers were in bloom at the time. We didn’t talk much but we didn’t need to.

Many years later I found out that he’d had bought the bicycle without mother even knowing and he’d gotten in real trouble for spending the money. But he knew I needed something that was just mine. I see now that I look back, the money he spent was for a whole lot more than just a shiny red bicycle. It was an investment in this daughter of his…a daughter who seemed a bit lost and desperately needed to be noticed and made to feel special. It certainly worked and I’ve never forgotten that moment when Daddy smiled at me with everything he had.

Note:
Featured in the group, Remember When
My sincere thanks to the hosts for such an honor!

This story was featured in the group, Old Farts of Redbubble
I would like to thank the hosts of this group for honoring my story!

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Tags:

bike, birthday, daddy, father, fathers day, poor, summer and surprise