fathers

i'm sitting on the front porch, bangs pulled back by a colorful headband, eyes peering from dirty glasses, reading my latest collection of short stories.  the sky is steel gray and the rain slowly drizzles, as if it is tired of falling. the neighbors come home - from breakfast maybe, or church - and they are arguing. the father says something to the teenage boy. he whines a reply. the sister interjects and tells her brother to "just f*cking do it". i would be dead today if i said that to my brother, at 16, in the presence of my father.
it is father's day and i will most definitely not see my dad. i may call him, but he wouldn't be surprised if i didn't and even when i do, i know i will get his answering machine. we are both ok with this. it is not that i hate my father, i don't have enough energy to invest such an emotion in him, and it is not that he was absent from my childhood. in fact, he was more then involved and i credit him with the majority of who i have become, but relationships change and people hurt each other and sometimes someone doesn't want to try anymore. my father is comfortable with the distance. he created it - i tried to travel it - he keeps moving away (not very different from some other male relationships i have experienced).
but i'm not going to spend today thinking of all the pain and hurt and confusion we have caused each other. (again, wasted energy)
no.
today i will remember the man who carved poetry in wood and introduced me to Dylan . who debated morals and ethics after sunday mornings spent in church. the man who coached me softball and wrote for the local paper. who took us to amusement parks and baseball games and vacations. vacations - he always loved traveling - and he gave the best gifts.
for Christmas one year my parents bypassed all the usual presents - toys and clothes and music - and bought tickets to the olympics. it would require the 6 of us to squeeze in the oldsmobile, 3 in the front, 3 in the back, drive from jersey to alabama to pick up my aunt, and then head over to atlanta; but it  would be the best christams gift i have ever received. one that was not fully enjoyed till 6 months later. one that created anticipation and excitement and long drives with loud music.
when i graduated high school i watched multiple friends get new computers - to take with them to college - and other "big" accessories required for dorm living. my father gave me and my two older sisters a trip to key west. just the three of us. we went snorkeling and boating, explored famous graveyards, wandered around the homes of tennessee williams and ernest hemingway, watched sunset street performances, and spent way too much time bouncing between boys and bars - it was the perfect celebration - the most sincere way i could appreciate this rite of passage, this growing up.
my father's fantastic gift giving has continued even after our relationship has not. his most recent present was awarded to me upon completion of my undergrad. for this graduation i got a hot air balloon ride for two. i can either go at sunrise or sunset and each ride comes with champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
i'm sure that once i take off, and am soaring over north jersey, i will be nostalgic for the man who introduced me to music and poetry and politics, to baseball and education and travel, who instilled the importance of family and then left us, without an apology. and although i will most likely not speak with him today, i will remember the man who loves me, but cannot say it.