Mar 05, 2006 10:53
I don't remember very much about my Dad. He died when I was just a pollywog. I love the Swamp (after all, it's Home!), but it can be a dangerous place and one day Dad just didn't come home. We never did find out what happened to him and that was really hard on Mom.
It sounds silly now, but I never stopped hoping that one day Dad would hop back home, alive and well. I used to imagine he'd fallen asleep under a cypress tree like Rip Van Winkle or maybe he'd been caught up in some Great Big Adventure. It didn't occurred to me that he could have left us on purpose and I don't believe that he ever did.
Even though I had a Mother who loved me and lots of brothers and sisters and friends, I don't think I ever stopped longing for a Father, too. Someone loving and kind who would listen to, well, guy things you might be too embarrassed to talk to your Mom about. He's helpful and strong and patient, who's there to share your triumphs and pick you up when you fall.
I didn't know it then, but looking back now I realize that I actually had all of those things and more. After all, a Father can be more than your flesh and blood. He can be a friend and mentor, too.
No frog could ever have wished for a better Father than Jim Henson, who was all those things and more.