A Cup of Comfort for Fathers by Colleen Sell

Author:Colleen Sell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Adams Media, Inc.
Published: 2010-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

What Fathers Do

My father can’t explain the rationale of calculus or the activities on Wall Street. He doesn’t understand a thing about computers; wouldn’t know a motherboard from a washboard. A father of the fifties and sixties, he doesn’t cook, do laundry, make beds, or iron clothes. I doubt he ever changed a diaper in his life. But whatever Daddy lacks in technological proficiency and domestic skills, he has made up for in other ways.

As a child, I thought of my father as a brave man. A man who always made things better.

In my first recollection of him, I am a toddler. He is holding me in his arms, walking me around a dimly lit room while I cry, frightened by a nightmare. My breath comes out in jerky gasps, and even now, I can still hear Daddy’s smooth baritone voice as he softly prays for his scared little girl.

When I was six, I attempted to show off my bike-riding skills to an important guest. Instead of the flawless demonstration I had hoped for, I was mortified when I crashed headlong into the side of the house, nearly breaking my neck in the process. My father tenderly led me into the house for some first aid, both to my skinned knees and my wounded pride.

Daddy often drove me and my sisters to the library after school, where he would wait patiently while we checked out mountains of books. One afternoon, while racing to the car, I tripped over a large crack in the sidewalk and flew through the air, landing with a brutal bang on hands and knees, books scattering in every direction. As I looked up, still too stunned to cry, I saw Daddy leap out of the car and race to my side. After inspecting my scrapes, he scooped me up and carried me to the car. How safe I felt in his arms.

There is an old picture somewhere of my dad holding up a dead snake as long as he is tall. As a little girl, I used to stare at that picture and think, How could anybody be so brave?

But that is what good fathers do. They kill the snakes. They do what nobody else wants to do.

If we had a flat tire, Daddy got out in the heat or rain or sleet and changed it.

If a noise woke us in the night, Daddy was expected to go check it out.

If we got caught in a rainstorm while driving to church or out to eat, it was understood that Daddy would let us out at the door, go park the car alone, and get drenched on his way inside.

If the roof leaked, we never doubted that Daddy would find the hole and plug it.

If a mouse left evidence lying around, Daddy was expected to bait a trap, inspect it for success, and dispose of whatever landed there.

And at the end of the day, Daddy was the one who sat at a little scuffed desk and paid the bills.

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