in my mind

Red and white sneakers.

Lately, when I think of Dad, that's what I see in my mind's eye: his red and white sneakers. I haven't the foggiest idea why. It baffles me sometimes; stuns me at other times. Frequently, it just plain amuses me.

He had those sneakers for as long as I can remember. Red and white leather. Just the plain, old, walk around, casual style of shoe that used to be called "sneaker" before Nike and Reebok and the lot started specializing shoes. They were big (for me, anyway) and not just a little clunky (by today's standards), but, boy did he love them! And something about them must mean something to me lately. In some ways, I wish I knew, but I also figure that once I figure that out, I won't see them so clearly the moment I think of him. It's the letting go that's always the hardest.

Today is Valentine's Day. On this day, in 2007, in the midst of a wild blizzard, we listened to taps played for him, and a 21-gun salute, which happened to occur at the same time as a church's noontime bells. "God and Country," my sister said later. "His two great devotions." Five years later, and I still miss him, of course, but right now the missing is not so painful, fresh, sharp. Not this week, anyway.

For a long time, I think it would have hurt to have those shoes appear to me. They were the shoes he wore walking around the neighborhood every morning for a while. The ones he was wearing when he almost slid into Newport Bay when we took the Cliffwalk. (an event that looked more humorous to us than it felt to him!) There are times when I imagine that he wore them to my graduations, and our wedding, though I know he wouldn't have--just, possibly, to the parties afterward.

When I see his shoes, they are on his feet. I guess, to be precise, when I think of Dad lately, I see his red and white shoes, along with his legs from the knee down--though I couldn't tell you if he's wearing jeans or some other pants. Probably jeans--I don't recall him having other 'casual' pants. And when I see his legs and red and white shod feet, his right ankle is crossed on in left knee, and his left forefinger is hooked in the heel. His comfortable, conversational position. A position that always amused me, and one that I am so glad I have a picture of (although he's wearing his brown loafers in the picture, and my nephew is on his lap).

I don't know why I see the red and white sneakers. I don't know why they bring me such peace. If there is a reason, I hope I don't miss it, simply because I'm not ready to identify it. Whether there is a reason or not, I'm grateful for the memory, the vision, the warmth.

Happy Valentine's Day, Dad. I love you!