That claw foot tub was my morning alarm clock
Its spout filled the basin with a distinctive tone
Ten minutes later – draining, clinking and shaving
Followed by a scurry down the stairs
And a rattled window with a door slam
Happy Days anthem in the afternoon
Punctuated by size elevens on the front porch
Another door rattled and he walked across the floor
Found that favorite chair, scraping the kitchen floor
And the lunch box lands on the table
Sunday afternoons brought little league cheers,
Calls from the sidelines shouting my name,
Hoots and hollers for every exciting play,
Post game coaching and encouragement,
And oldies on the radio, until we got home
With the decades, conversation grew a little rasp,
Always preceded by a chirp of the phone.
Then asking, probing, joking around.
All from the comforting voice I’d come to rely on
Which is now carried, only by memories.
Day 18 of NaPoWriMo is about sounds from home. But for me, home is always where I find my loved ones. So I decided to write about some of the sounds I associate with my father. Today when I hear similar sounds, they cause a flood of memories.