I remember the time when I was just eight and sat by my father’s side. He’d taught me to drive the tractor that day. I drove it with certain pride.
The bales of hay were scattered about. There were more than just a few. So with the wave of his arm and that big steering wheel, I knew just what to do.
We worked together for years to come with the packing and trails to ride. I was always at ease, each moment to seize, as I rode at my father’s side.
The day had come, it was plain to see, to move, my family and me. Our land was small, not enough for us all, so I left that place of my dreams to set out alone and do what I could to accomplish my own set of schemes.
Could I make it suffice without his advice? He had taught me all that he knew-to be a good man and take care of my own. That I knew to be true.
And my fears could not hide I was now alone far from my father’s side.
The years brought success. We were happy, no less, with our family and all that we had. But my heart was not there, it wasn’t despair, I just wanted my home as a lad.
When our family was grown, we were now all alone, so we packed and went for that ride. We moved back there where none can compare, close to my father’s side.
He was ninety plus one, gray haired but not done and oh so young at heart. With the aid of a cane he never complained and managed to do his part.
My visits not few, we’d sometimes just talk. More often than not we’d go for a walk. I’d remind him of times where we went for a ride as I rode next to him, by my father’s side.
The years changed us both, we were older for sure, but those feelings of care were never more pure. For my time with him I’ve nothing to hide as I sit by my father’s side.