It had been so long since I spent a morning with my dad. I’m really struggling to crawl through the dusty corridors to remember what his usuals were.
For some reason I remember while I was still in bed the smell of the cigarette smoke. In better times he was already dressed, shaved, sitting in his easy chair reading the paper, his coffee at hand, and smoking a cigarette. Everything finished before he would leave for work.
It was almost an unwritten law to not talk while he was watching the news or reading the paper. Those moments are vivid in my mind, because even now I rarely talk to anyone while they are watching tv or reading.
I do remember as a little girl leaning against the bathroom door frame watching my dad shave. He would lather up the soap in the cup with the lathering brush, get it all foamy and expertly put it on his face in all the right places. Then he would start the shaving process. Starting at the neck, methodically working his way up to the chin. You could tell he wasn’t a novice doing this especially the way he would wind his way over his chin to his cheeks and around his nose. It was very entertaining but let me tell you watching him brush his teeth was even better. He would have his mouth all foamy with toothpaste and be brushing away until he would take his index finger and expertly slide all the excess off his mouth. This probably doesn’t sound like much to the reader but as a little kid standing and watching , this it was pure entertainment and I am sure he loved the attention and to be center stage.
Some of the mornings are coming back to me, some are not. Trying to dredge up memories so sparsely gathered and so long ago is a real test of my own set of decrepid cells. It’s like excercise and if I keep working on it, my mental picture will be fit for sharing. bustersdaughter……
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