A nice quiet evening of the 1980’s.
He holds a blueprint of a house plan, his palms holding it tight as if they just held a dream home.
I stand tip toe, trying to look into it too but then I manage to just rub the tip of my nose against its farthest dog eared tip.
He looks down smiles at my ardent eyes and asks, “So what is our dream home like?”
“ White walls, red roofs….the pink donkey on the left of the house, the horse at the front gate” I rattle off nonstop.
He just knew to handle my head, “ Hmmm…sure”
Then I hold his knees so tight that he looks down and smiles at my little ways.
I almost whisper, “ A lotus white tank and a bath tub for little princess”
He smiles down and says , “ yes my princess”
Years down, he kept his word, the lotus white tank, the bath tub all wizened with the years.
Then destiny peeps through a key hole and then,
Just that the dream of the home died with him.
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