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Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Silent Writers Collective Pick : Daddy’s Home!

This picture, worth a thousand words, opened wide the many memories I've held safe and sound in my Secret Place.
 As I look into the face of the little girl holding her daddy, it takes me back to another time when I was a little girl just like her. Mom was waiting at the airport terminal for Dad to return from (?). I remember her holding me in her arms, as we were both surrounded by Servicemen, arriving from their collective flights. I had my most endearing smile at ready for anyone who even remotely resembled my daddy. One small problem was,  I thought everyone there was my daddy! As each soldier disembarked on Terra Firma, my squeals of  delight,  "Daddy!!" with arms outstretched, got quite a few smiles from the soldiers as they passed by us. I later heard of Mom's retelling the story to her friends, of my welcome cries, much to her embarrassment; apparently it didn't matter what race, color or ethnicity he was, I called each solder who smiled at me,  Daddy! I poured on the charm, big-time; it was my Pièce de Résistance~

Now, many years later, I see myself again, and I smile as I recognize her joy. I wonder how she will remember this day, in the years to come. Will she blog her memoirs? What will she tell her children about her recollections of Army life? How will this day shape her future? Will she be pro-active, will she be able to perpetuate the dream that her daddy worked hard to build for us, when he put his life on the line for us all,  for a brighter future with no wars, no killing, no fear.

There is a glimmer of  fear and uncertainty in the young girl's eyes, even at her tender age. She's too young to have fear of the things we adults have to deal with on a daily basis. But she too will learn the harsh reality of a world torn apart by turmoil, struggling to stay afloat in an economy going up in a raging inferno, like a tortured Zeppelin.

I was talking with a HS friend earlier, and she was reliving her school days while visiting her old homestead. She said she wished she could go back in time and relive her high school days. I told her, I go back at least once a day, to a date I remember with fondness. It isn't any one day in particular, just a memory that brings a smile to my day. It's a sort of exercise in keeping my parents, now departed, close by. I will probably never truly let go of them, for I don't think that is a bad thing. It's good to be reminded of where you come from, and what path life has taken you down, over the years.

I know I ramble on sometimes, about things that no one else probably cares about. We all have our memories we keep safely hidden away from the outside world. Only by an act of absolute trust, can we feel safe to expose our deepest thoughts.

I find solace in my personal blogging, for it allows me time to think in solitude, without fear of being judged by anyone but myself. I am thankful each day for my memories, as they bring me comfort in my quiet retreats.

I don't have any pictures of me with my dad, in his Army uniform, but I do have my parents' wedding photograph, taken in 1948.

O headache, begone! 2 minutes to Mini-Tini in a shot glass, 2 pimento olives please...

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