By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)
As I was watching my 6 year old sitting with one of his legs across the other, and his arms resting on the chair, memories of a lost beloved of long ago came chasing my tranquil heart: my dad, a tall robust man, with deep brown eyes that could tell you all by just looking at them. No words were necessary, just a look into his eyes and you could tell what he was thinking; or at least that’s how it seemed. Books were always around him. Some were full of light and joy, others were scarlet riddles upon cases unsolved; however, the few that I loved the most were about the pyramids and magic or something of the sort.
Oh, how I wish I could grab his hand once again and walk barefooted through that shore looking for seashells while hearing his stories of when he was child. As I grew up, I started to understand the advices that were given as he was storytelling the development of a great man. Such a short time was I able to spend with him; then again, such a rich time that even after thirty years seems to be yesterday. Seems funny how they have never met, yet have quite a few things to share. Makes me think that somehow, my dad’s essence has echoes through time and is finally projecting himself in front of me once again in my son’s eyes, the way he presents himself and even his smile.
He asks me, “mom what’s wrong?”
As I embrace him, I tell him that I’m just full of joy, since I have this handsome little boy. I guess it’s time for me to be that big hand and walk along the seashore, admiring the sunset as well as seeking for seashells; and let’s not forget the funny short stories full of surprises that have come along with me. Hopefully, my echoes resonate in his heart and soul as well, when my time has come.
*This story is published in ECHOES AN ANTHOLOGY
BY THE 2019 MPL WRITING CIRCLE.