For many years now,
I have regularly
eaten breakfast
with my dad
before work,
typically at the same
coffee shop
and the same
small table by the window.
It is incredible
to consider
all of the conversations
he and I have had
over coffee
and bacon, egg, and cheese
biscuits.
While the food and drink
have always been delicious,
it is the wisdom —
the thoughtful,
boundless wisdom —
that I have most voraciously
devoured.
He has encouraged me
through seasons
of great anxiety
and uncertainty,
has steadied me
when all my desires
were falling at my feet,
and has comforted me
through moments
of bitter disappointment
and sadness.
Were I to take the time,
I could put a price
on the coffee
and biscuits
my dad and I
have shared
during these many breakfasts,
but I could never hope
to measure the value
of his presence
at that small wooden table
on so many early mornings,
his non-judgmental ear,
or his quiet,
thoughtful responses
to the weightiest questions
of my life,
sharing with me
the lessons he learned
when he waded
through similar waters,
helping me to cheat
the laws of life
which say that we all must
make our own mistakes,
that we all must suffer
through our own trials
and errors
before seizing
any amount of wisdom
or experience.
I know
that not everyone
has a father
remaining on this earth,
or one with whom
a congenial relationship
exists,
but we all know someone
whose counsel
we trust,
and we all know someone
who holds our advice
in high esteem;
let’s make the calls
that need to be made
and send the texts
that need to be sent,
to put mentor
and mentee
together
at the same table,
sipping coffee,
eating biscuits,
and unraveling
the wonderful mysteries
of this world.
