Father Fares Well

Father Fares Well

Autumn was almost officially gone, Mike noted, as he tore another December-labeled page from his desk calendar.  Blowing snow was already beginning to drift across the driveway, blanketing the terraced yard and disguising the bricks he'd used to line the edges of the yard and the driveway.  Colorado, he decided, was in for a couple of days of messy driving.  Denver drivers, along with those in the mountains and on the plains, generally knew how to react to a given snowfall.  Each winter, though, there seemed to be more and more transplants from some snow-free zone like Florida or Mississippi, who went into a total panic at their first sight of a few airborne water droplets that didn't look like rain.  Fortunately, this looked like one of those "Two inches for Denver, then - Look out, Kansas!" kind of storms, so the newbies would at least have a chance to get used to the idea of driving on white.

Glancing around for anything he might be forgetting, Mike donned his hat and loaded his pockets with a wallet, a handkerchief, a comb, and some loose change.  Holding the keys in his right hand, he slung his backpack over his left shoulder and headed for the door.  In the time it took him to unlock the doorknob and the deadbolt, open the door and insert his key into the doorknob - a matter of just a few seconds, really - both boys came racing down the hall and charging down the stairs.

"Jeffrey, Larry - slow down!" Mike commanded.  "Kids - what have your Mom and I told you about running down the stairs like that?" Mike asked sternly, as his wife observed from the top of the stairs.

Larry looked at Jeffrey, clearly urging his big brother to be the one to answer this time.

"Mostly that it's noisy," Jeffrey answered, then, seeing the 'And...?' expression on his father's face, added hastily "and that we could fall and get hurt."

"Now look, boys," Mike began his reprimand, then stopped.  Obviously, they knew the rules and had just wanted one more hug from their dad, before he was gone for the whole day - almost forever to the little tykes.

Perhaps what melted his resolve most, was the pleading look that overtook their little faces, looks that struck a chord within his own childhood memories, of more cries of "Please, dad, just one more hug?" and then "Bye, Dad!" than he could possibly remember, most of those farewells perilously close to being tearful as well, and would have been, save for his determination to "Be a brave boy and take care of your Mom!", as he had solemnly promised his dad on the eve of each imminent departure on business the boy knew to be important - not more important than he and his Mom, as his father had repeatedly and lovingly assured him each time, but required due to the nature of his job.  Quickly, he dropped his backpack and engulfed the boys in a fierce bearhug, holding it almost a full minute before letting them go.  Retrieving his pack and his keys, he kissed them both on the forehead, told Jeffrey to be sure and lock the door, then turned and left before the boys could ask him why it looked like he had tears in his eyes.

Snowplows leading the way, Mike made acceptable time to the office, parked the van and made his way across the lot and into the building.  The telephones were already ringing, as he hung up his things.  Undoubtedly, some of the callers were, quote, financial representatives, unquote, who preferred to "brute force" their way through the various new account forms, rather than make a call to Client Services and get an explanation that could save them hours of frustration.  Vanity at work.

With virtually everyone busy right then, he went straight to his desk and turned on his computer and, while his system booted up, drew a rough picture of himself, his wife, and the boys sitting around a table at their favorite pizza place, wrote "Tonight?" below the picture, and then used the new copier to e-mail it home.  Xerox copiers rock, Mike decided, removing his original and clearing the special function.  You're a lousy artist, he thought, as he reached for his phone, but they'd get the general idea.

"Zebedee Innovations, Mike speaking."