D Day Minus 199 (August 21, 2009): Footsteps

The thud, thud (pause) thud, thud (pause) of your footsteps padding down the stairs woke me up around seven o'clock. My morning fog hadn't lifted and it took a minute to realize I was in Sterling. But, I knew the footsteps were yours. Not because you were the only one in the house besides Dad and me. But because you had a bouncy cadence the reverberated from your head to your toes and back, kind of like a big thick rubber band. I noticed it when you were my curly red headed little boy. The cadence and gait stayed the same as you grew. The force of your footsteps changed – from the trepidation of a toddler to the determination and confidence of an adult.

I knew I should get up, but was too tired to move. Instead, I savored my Friday morning symphony of roaring trash trucks, running water, shutting doors and padding footsteps. Footsteps in the kitchen where you were fixing breakfast and making your lunch. Footsteps across the family room to the garage where you recycled the empty orange juice bottle. Footsteps up the stairs and to your bathroom to brush your teeth and comb your hair. Footsteps to your room to get your hat and name tag. Footsteps down the stairs, through the foyer, and out the front door and off to work. Footsteps back on the front porch, in the front door, to the kitchen (to get the lunch you forgot), and back off to work.

I reveled in my appreciation of the simple pleasure of your footsteps and the memories that launched memories of other memories -- like a mirror on infinity. Until, the alarm went off and Dad yelled at Jack Diamond from Mix 107.3 to “shut up Jack." Just like he always did.