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| (I snagged this photo off the web w/o permission, i.e. it's not a photo of my own!) |
It seems like such a simple thing now, but I remember it made those mornings feel special – I suppose because it was out of the ordinary. And not only did he not do it often, I never knew of anyone else who could do that at all. Just one more of those surprising things that my dad knew how to do. He seemed so average most of the time and then out of nowhere he’d whip out this special skill he’d been hiding – who knows from where and who knows from how long ago. In fact, in a way, it seemed like these secret things he knew how to do were just a part of him, somehow written into his DNA, patiently waiting for the day they were needed. I bet he had a whole lot of other useful knowledge tucked away in secret corners of his mind, just waiting to be needed for special occasions. He knew how to make syrup. He knew how to make bullets. He could build a camp fire out of almost nothing. He always knew what was wrong with my car. I miss the things he could have taught me, but I’m also grateful for the memories I have of the ordinary days he made special with just a bit of syrup.
*Occasionally we made the "poor man's snow cone," by going outside to make snowballs, then bring them inside and pour on the syrup (we let the syrup cool a little so it didn't melt the snow all at once!).
