Saturday, May 8, 2010

My dad had a bike.
It was red.
I used to ride in a seat on the back.
His bike lock combination was my birthday.


I miss him.


Eva said...

I feel this one. It's the strangest little things that remind me of my father too. Like chocolate donuts.

P. Whiter said...

Over the first few months there, he learned – snip by snip and lock by lock- to tolerate the feel and sound of the scissors on his hair, until he could endure an entire hair cut. He may never totally enjoy a haircut, but nowadays he will sit quietly in the chair and let the hairdresser do her work – even though his shoulders still tend to creep up towards his ears as she cuts. Getting him to let us cut his toenails without sustaining a hernia was a real challenge and is still chancy at times. His feet are very ticklish and it is only on a good day, that he will let me hold his foot without wriggling and squirming enough to turn us both inside out.The latest personal hygiene hurdle was going to the dentist. Ever since we changed dentists a few years ago, she has been working on getting him relaxed enough to let her actually properly examine his teeth. Up until the change nearly two years ago, getting him to stay in the dental chair was a massive task and he would tolerate a dental mirror in his mouth if he held it himself. Six months ago, and with the help of some medication, he relaxed sufficiently to lay back in the chair and let the dentist gently brush his teeth.