Pops

My fingers lovingly caress the surface

of all these small

things

the cool metal of a pocket knife

the sharp point of a fishing hook.

The room still smells

the same

... old wood

... paint thinner

... the cool dampness of the underground.

Everything is

still

perfectly in its place.

Everything

except you.

Can you sum up a life by the things left behind?

He loved to fish

plus

he bought a tool maybe every time he needed one

plus

he loved to build things and fix things,

but not himself

plus

he framed a drawing from his great grand daughter

plus

he kept the finger puzzles and euro note from his grand daughter.

plus

he liked fedoras and leather jackets.

plus

his chair that he could face out the window with a swivel

equals

a man I never fully knew.

He was quiet

steady

slipping a 5 dollar bill in my pocket

when my parents weren't looking.

Other times he was loud

saying

"you get what you want now"

when we were out for dinner.

He valued presence

... if you were quiet.

He was a magician -

Heating metal and pulling rubber and deer tails -

wrapping and twisting in muscle-memoried motions

until

a masterpiece of a lure was suddenly in his hands.

He grew things -

fruit trees

tomatoes

concord grapes.

He liked to laugh and joke

and the world was

warmer

whne he would smile.

In my home he is the small pink bunny

the one he gave me

as a baby.

He is the rod and reel that waits by the door

for the first warm spring day.

He's the fishing hat my 11 year old has worn all year

the piggy banks that now hold their own slide in hand dollars

He's the sweater I wear when the world is cold

and I am missing

home.

He is the screw driver and the pipe wrench

so I can fix things when they

break

He's the copper in my hair,

the stubborn in my veins,

and a memory

in that euro note now hanging

on my wall.