the past month i have been dreaming about my dad a lot.
it’s reassuring because in my dreams, i remember small details of him that i didn’t know i could remember so clearly. in fact, i didn’t know that i had forgotten them.
the shape of his feet, the silly dance he’d do when he was excited about something, the tone of his voice when he was not feeling well, the light in his eyes when he was showing off a new gizmo, the crestfallen dismay and secret upwelling of admiration on his face for my cojones when i ran off with his brand new wireless keyboard when he was in the middle of writing an email, how he didn’t like personal issues disussed in public, the smile that he wore only before going deep sea fishing, the laugh he reserved for clients, the laugh he reserved for us, the smell of his sweat on a hot day (not as gross as it may sound here), the particular shape of his hat hair, how he’d make his accent stronger purposely when he was in a silly mood, how he couldn’t remember the lyrics to 99% of the thousands of songs he would sing along to.
one of my biggest fears right after his death was that these tiny details would be lost in the murky, overcrowded recesses of my mind. but my dreams are letting me hold on to those for just a tiny bit longer.
and i’m taking every tiny bit i can.