On my father’s TV, in his spare room, the TV was perpetually tuned to the weather channel – which brings up a question about old people and obsessions with weather – but that’s not what this remembrance is about – it’s about the sign.
The sign is simple Times Roman print, gold on red leather, probably a gift, from my mother, judging by approximate age and location – the sign itself read, “Nothing is Impossible.”
A succinct way to sum of my father.
In another corner, same room, there’s a 6 foot trigger rod I outfitted with some coastal gear, and I know that my father did use that pole, at the coast, with me, at least twice.
I also had that sneaking feeling that the pole would come back to haunt me, only, I didn’t think it would happen this fast.
It happens like that. From time to time, even now, I’ll come across something–or someone will use a favorite expression of hers–and I’ll be awash in memories of my mother. It gets to be a familiar thing, sadness and good memories inextricably wound together.