Dan

Dan
Dan Gisvold at Bear Creek

Saturday, July 16, 2011

He was here

I haven't written about Dan in awhile.

It is not because I don't think about him. I rarely stop thinking about him.

But my thoughts are not conducive to writing.

I see a truck on the highway and I feel Dan in it. I see a motorcycle and I see Dan on it. I hear a piece of music and I listen through his ears.

Everyday as I drive past the expansive view of the Pacific Ocean near where he lived, I think of him.

I don't keep sassafras tea in the house anymore. The constant reminder was overwhelming.

But yesterday I was sitting in my chair watching the British Open (golf not tennis!) and I could have sworn he was there. On the couch. Watching Tom Watson make a hole-in-one.

I could have sworn it.

I felt his presence so keenly. But so fleetingly. Like a soft breeze on my soul.

I didn't move. I didn't look at the couch. I just smiled a little and remembered him. Here.

Not on the road.

Not in the audience.

But on my couch. Those long legs crossed at the ankles on the ottoman. The dogs begging to sit with him.

It was all so clear and so very fleeting.

I hope he drops by again.

2 comments:

  1. G.G. Those are nice moments, the ones when you get to spend a little time with your brother.

    I also stumble across memory landmines of my sister.
    The magazine I subscribed to because I remembered liking it in high school, but now remember how Lily used to ask me to save certain puzzles in it for her.
    The one 80's song she and I car-danced to on our way to the grocery store.
    The perfume I've never smelled on anyone but her. I've forgotten what it smells like, but I know if I ever get a wiff, I'll burst into tears wherever I'm unfortunate enough to be. (And now that I've jinxed myself, I bet it'll be at work. This week.)

    I keep waiting for her to visit. To leave a note. To whisper to me.

    I hope Dan drops by again, too.

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  2. I have no doubt that the people we miss poke in every now and then and make sure we feel them there. My father in law tosses packs of fat free cheese at the Spouse Thingy in the grocery store, I'm sure of it. It's happened more than once, it's gotta be him...

    Dan will be back.

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