Mornings with Dad

The other day I was lying in bed, reading my book, eating my toast and observing my cats who were l curled up at my feet and winking at me every once in a while.  It made me suddenly thinking about my childhood and a weekend tradition that we kids adored but I am sure my parents had ambivalent feelings about it.

The thing was that our dad worked very long hours, leaving the house around 5 a.m. and returning sometimes after 8 p.m.  Often we never saw my dad until the weekend so early on Saturday mornings we would knock and go into our parents’ bedroom.  Usually Mom was already up and making coffee and sandwiches for both of them which would be served in bed.  I should perhaps mention here that my father was served breakfast in bed every day of his married life (they do not make wives like my mother anymore, or perhaps ever before).  We would sit on the edge of Dad’s bed and tell him all about our week (this is where I usually mentioned the latest ghost story I had written for composition).  Pretty soon Dad would ease us every so skillfully over to Mom’s side of the bed where we would still sit on the edge, talk over her while more and more wildly jiggle the bed.  Mom endured everything patiently for a really long time where Dad had us on his side for maybe ten minutes, tops.

I was usually the first one up and about in the mornings so as I grew a little older I often got a lot of “advance” information from Dad.  One memorable Saturday morning I recall flipping through Dad’s “Hvem, Hvad, Hvor” (which is the Danish Annual Almanac) and coming upon a picture of a wild looking man with a peculiar mustache I asked him “whose that” whereupon Dad replied “the devil”.  My eyes flew first to the picture and then to Dad and asked “what”!  He then explained to me who Adolf Hitler was and what he had done to the world.  I was 8 years old and I don’t think I will ever forget that history lesson.

Shortly after I would enter the bedroom my sister would come in, then the boys all at once but just as steadily the younger ones would soon go out to the kitchen for breakfast.  Mom would get up to feed them and then it would just be my sister or oldest brother remaining.  Pretty soon it would just be me.  Dad and I could talk for hours about so many things although most of the time Dad did the talking but that is how I learned to be such a good listener.  I may not be a very patient person when it comes to being in a lineup but I can be very patient waiting for my turn to talk!

I really miss him.