|Maui, Hawaii. (author's files)|
Missing their father more than ever, both warm to his affection and Norwegian charm as they would a grandfather. When Clancy nearly dies in the shark attack, Callie can barely cope with the possibility he just might die....let alone his dog too. Callie struggles to stay strong for her brother's sake and knows she must focus on finding her mother above all, but it's a tall order for a fourteen-year-old girl.
It was not hard for me to imagine how Callie and her brother felt. I lost my father suddenly in my early 30s and later a favorite uncle in his late 80s. I drew upon the loss and feelings I had back then to tell Callie's story in particular. As the oldest of three siblings in my family I understood the responsibility of being the oldest. Below are some brief remembrances of my own father. I could write more about him, but when drawing upon your emotions as a writer, it helps to define things simply....
Remembering A Father's Love
When I was young my father and I
did gymnastics in the living room with barely a care.
Slapping his knees, he flipped me high in the air.
When I was young my father waited patiently below,
smiling and calling out to me to let go.
High atop the tall slide I let my fingers slip, oh, oh, oh.
When I was young my father built me a scooter
with old scrap wood and roller skates.
Pushing off with one foot, I raced to show my playmates.
When I was young my father turned an army blanket
into a beach trampoline.
Everyone took turns riding the wild horse machine.
When I was young my father sanded the rust,
pounded out dents, and painted a bicycle blue.
So I could have a bike that was fresh and new.
When I was young my father built a wooden swing set
in the backyard for my brother and me.
There we pumped our legs to our heart's content, wild and free.
When I was young my father drove a van to work
but around town drove a big fat Buick.
Where I sat in the back and always got carsick.
When I was young my father loved to go fishing
in the bay with my grandfather in his boat.
They caught plenty of fish, both liked to gloat.
When I was young my father relaxed to the beat of Tommy Dorsey.
He snapped his fingers, smoked, and drank lots of whiskey.
But mostly, he took time to love and recognize me.
My handsome Daddy - Tacoma
(Commodore, Day Island Yacht Club)
|Sharon M. Himsl, Writer / Author|
Published: Evernight TeenThe Shells of Mersing