My Dad was born 87 years ago today.
This post is for him . . .
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| Daddy, Me and |
Dad and Mom had decided to move our family into our town house.
To save Mom some of the driving duties.
But my Dad was the lone veterinarian in the Milk River area.
His practice covered may hundreds of square miles.
A lot of ground.
Add to that, his own ranching duties and the requirements of a husband and father.
'Busy' would have been a vast understatement.
He did it all.
But sacrifice was required.
Usually in the form of early and late hours spent away from his family.
And now, with his family ensconced in the house in town, Dad had even more time away from us.
Oh, we saw him occasionally.
Just not often enough.
I missed him.
He was the centre of my four-year-old world.
Town life was also difficult in other ways.
When we were living on the ranch, we had no neighbours.
Other than those employed there.
Living in town, we did.
Have neighbours.
And we discovered that those neighbours observed eachother's actions.
Weird.
They noticed when Dad left the house at 4 AM.
And returned sometime after midnight.
On occasion, they commented . . .
It was a beautiful, sunny summer day.
Saturday.
Early afternoon.
I should have been napping.
But had escaped as soon as Mom had dozed off.
I was playing happily in the yard with other kids from the neighbourhood.
I'm not sure what we were doing.
Probably something we shouldn't.
A truck came down the street.
A familiar truck.
I stared at it.
Then squealed happily and ran towards the drive way.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
As soon as he stepped from the vehicle, I launched myself at him.
Still screaming happily.
He scooped me up for a big hug.
Then, carrying me, started to walk towards the house.
Our neighbour was standing on his driveway.
Dad looked at him. “You'd think she was happy to see me,” he said.
“I'm surprised she knows you!” came the response.
Yep.
Town life.
With neighbours.
Who can be counted on for anything.
Especially pointing out our shortcomings.
There is ALWAYS someone watching. ALWAYS. Usually when you wish they weren't.
ReplyDeleteYou are so right. We soon learned all about that . . .
DeleteAnd if it's a small town like mine was everyone knows everyone's business and they're not afraid to share it--opinions added in as fact of course.
ReplyDeleteA little neighbourly embroidery makes life exciting, I guess! :)
DeleteHappy birthday to your little girl's great dad!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. He's slowing down now, but still as quick witted and as big a tease as ever!
DeleteWell there you go! Your dad is not that much younger than mine!! Are you implying your brother was adopted/swapped at birth/alien??!! How cool!
ReplyDeleteImplying? Pffff! I'm stating: All of the above! :)
DeleteMy husband also travelled 6-8 weeks at a time and one day he came home and my son didn't know him. Every where we went, every bearded man he'd see , he'd run over to him and grab his leg to say DaddY! I am so happy to see you and every time , embarrassed I would tell him .No son This isn't your Daddy. When his Dad did come home , He wasn't sure it was him. lol
ReplyDeleteHahahaha! Poor little guy! Our oldest son was being held by his uncle, and it wasn't until his dad walked into the room that he realized that the man holding him wasn't Daddy! Beards make all men kin!
DeleteThere is a certain charm to a small town, if you don't mind sharing your business with everyone! :) Thanks for sharing this story about you and your dad with us Diane.
ReplyDeleteThere is a certain charm to a small town, if you like everyone knowing your business! :) Thanks for sharing this story about you and your dad Diane.
ReplyDeleteI actually love small towns. Including the neighbourly opinions!
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