A meditation for Fathers Day
His big safe hands I remember most of all. His fingers seemed huge to me and I felt his frustration when, working on the engine of a car or some other repair job, these unwieldy fat sausages would drop an important nut or washer into some inaccessible spot while attempting to fit it where it belonged. I’d volunteer to do the job with my small, precise child fingers but he would seldom hear of it. My job was just to be present and maybe, like a surgeon’s assistant, sometimes hunt for a half-inch ring spanner or…
