my obbession with my dad grows
my ma was going through some of my dads things and found something she thought i'd want. she said that she knew i'd take everything when she died, but she wanted to give me this small thing now, so she could see the look on my face when i unwrapped the tissue that surrounded it.
she handed me this tiny little thing, light as a feather. i carefully unwrapped it and held in my hands this wonderful piece of history. i looked up at her and started to cry. she said "i know. that's why i wanted you to have it now, before i died."
this little bit of nothing is 51 years old.
yes, i opened it. the wick is burnt and frayed. i can still smell a hint of flint and butane. and i can almost see my dad lighting up cigar; smoke curling above his head then slowing dissipating throughout the room. i can almost see him. almost.
but i can touch this. hold it. treasure it. and know that once upon a time he did the same.
