by BobA. Troutt
*****
Odds n Ends
Daddy, Can I Have the Moon?
The young sapling sat motionless in the still dusk of evening. It was summer and heat from the day had settled in on the breast of night. All was quiet as nightfall blanketed us. Down by the creek, I could hear the whistle of the L&N (Louisville & Nashville) train click, clack, click, clack as it passed over the trestle. Toot, toot, toot cried the lonesome sound of the train as my daughter, Willie Ruth, and I made our way to the well to draw water. She was no more than four then. But, I still recall that evening as if it were yesterday. As I lowered the water bucket down into the well, she quickly turned with a breathtaking sigh and pulled on my shirtsleeve.
“Look, Daddy,” she said in amazement. “Look at the moon!”
I turned quickly to look. Sure enough, it looked like the moon hung right down in front of us.
“It’s so big and bright,” she exclaimed. “It looks like it is almost sitting in my hands.”
“Yes, it does,” I replied.
And it did. I had never seen the moon appear like it did that night. It was so big, bright and beautiful. I just wanted to roll it into the house and share it with others.
“Daddy, can I have the moon?” Willie Ruth asked out of the clear blue.
A lot of water passed under the bridge since then. As I look back down through the years, the good times and the bad seemed to somehow work out for the best as I watched her grow up. I guess I could say if we hadn’t made our mistakes, the good times wouldn’t have seemed so good.
I remember when she was born. She was so tiny and fragile; I was afraid she would break. Her little slender fingers wadded up in a fist seemed to make my world appear so big. Her eyes sparkled when she opened them and a soft grin rounded her face. She was so unaware of what lied ahead. I placed a rose in her room the day she was born to celebrate her birth. Each year after that, I added one until she was twenty-one. From then on, a dozen each year says ‘Happy Birthday to Daddy’s Little Girl.’ The freshness of a new birth brought energy to our lives along with enduring hope. At the same time, hopelessness lingered from the side of uncertain realities that lay ahead. On many long and hot summer nights, I watched the warm rains from my porch. The moon was out of my reach, but oh how I wanted to place it in her arms. There were the little bumps, scars, skinned knees, playing with her dolls and wanting me to rock them to sleep.
“Look, Daddy, I made some fresh mud pies. Would you like some?” she asked with big bright eyes.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I hurriedly replied.
She poked out her tiny bottom lip, turned to me and said, “Now, Daddy, here. You take some of this pie and I’ll pour you some tea, too.”
What could I say?
I answered, “Yum, yum!”
There was a tiny bite of fall in the air since summer had all but disappeared. The leaves had turned bright red, light green and gold. The fog hovered close to the ground as it slowly whipped its way down the road.
I remember those dance recitals when she was a ballerina and also tap danced. I can’t say she was as graceful as a swan with her little skinny legs and all. But, I didn’t dare tell her. I just smiled and told her that she did well. I didn’t elaborate because I knew she could see through me. She may not have been beautiful. But, in my eyes, when she participated in those beauty pageants, she was as glamorous as a movie star. Even though she didn’t win or even place, she was up there with all the rest to me. I easily acknowledged she was my little girl and she was the best.
The gentle breeze of early autumn stirred the leaves into the air. As they sashayed on an invisible floor, I couldn’t give back time no matter how much I wished I could. There are times I wish I could have been there. I made mistakes and suffered some failures. Unfortunately, there’s no way of turning back the hands of time and the bridges that are burnt behind them. I admired the rustling of the leaves and the colors of the mums as I sat on the porch and watched the squirrels gather nuts and play. I giggled to myself as tears flooded my eyes when I recalled her first crush on a little boy. I guess you could say her first boyfriend, but definitely not her last broken heart. There were other memories that included boys, pajama parties, friends galore, ballgames and junior high school. We’ve all been there; need I say anymore.
I loved the smell of leaves burning, the crackling sound of wood on the fire and the look of a cold morning with smoke coming from the nearby homes that surrounded me. The days became shorter and the night air was chilled. I was driven inside from my porch and we all gathered around the stove and fireplace for a long winter spell.
Through the years, we may not have always saw eye to eye; we had many disagreements. There were those times when I thought she needed a spanking. However, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just talked to her instead. We seemed to disagree more and more, especially as we got older. There were many times I may have misjudged a few calls. It wasn’t because I was mean. It was because I loved her. Daddies and mommas are human, too. Plus, they always want the best for their children.
Christmas was our time of year. I remember her second one very well. We had sat up all night and waited for her to go to sleep. When she finally did, we rushed to put her presents under the tree. About the time we got into bed and was about to go to sleep, she came in and stuck her little face up against her mother’s. She looked at her mother with those big round and bright eyes.
“Santa brought me a guitar,” she gently whispered.
I love the smell of cedar. It brings back so many memories of when I was a child and of my mom and dad. At Christmas everyone got together over at my grandparents’ house. We would eat, exchange gifts and sing songs while my aunt and uncle played the guitar. There is something special about dressing the tree when little children are around. We would lift them up to the top of the tree to crown it with an angel or star. Underneath the tree, wrapped in pretty paper and bows, were gifts for all. Momma baked pies, cakes, cookies and candy. I may not have wrapped the moon and placed it under the tree. But, we sure enjoyed looking at its reflection on the crust of the snow which had fallen the day before. I remember the sleigh rides, snowball fights, snowmen and so much more. Where did the time go? She grew up so fast; she wasn’t my little girl anymore.
The bitter cold of January and February brought in the last of winter. As the ice and snow slowly melted away, the cheerful sights of spring came alive. The budding and blooming of the flowers and trees refurbished the earth from the cold winter scene. The birds chirped and the fresh smell of spring’s fragrance filled the air as the cool breeze turned warm. In this awakening of the newness of life, my spirit was fresh, free and alive along with everything around me.
I remember her teenage years and sixteenth birthday party. I had gotten a good deal on a used car. I would have liked for it to be new but it wasn’t; she loved it anyway. She went to the school dances and she had her boyfriends. They would breakup and then they’d be back together. She always told me I didn’t understand. According to her, I never understood—like I was never young. It seemed like she never had any time for home or me anymore. She was always coming and going. I couldn’t keep up with her. So was so busy, but yet I failed to see any accomplishments. It seems like only yesterday that I took her to get her driver’s permit. Looking back on it, I wonder, at times, if I did the right thing. She always said I worried too much and that I was too old fashioned. But, it seemed to me the same little girl that wanted the moon had her head too far up in the clouds. She didn’t get to graduate; she had to drop out of school in the eleventh grade. She went back later, after she had my little grandson, and got her GED.
That goes to show you that things in life aren’t certain. Changes sometimes develop and alternate our course, sending us in different directions. Most people don’t like change. We sometimes become too comfortable. However, change can be
good and a blessing. I guess it is all in how you look at it and accept it.
She worked hard and tried to make the best of things. We, my wife and I, helped all we could. As a single mom, she had a lot of responsibility and a great burden upon her shoulders. But, she was strong; she made it. How do I know? She was once my little girl and now she is a beautiful young woman.
Time passed and all the loose ends that used to dangle have come together now. She found a nice young man, married and settled down in a new home not too far from her childhood home. It is a funny thing, when they disagreed and had a few words she came by the house all upset and told me everything. She still acted like I didn’t understand, like I’d never been there. She always went back and things would be good for a while before their next argument. After awhile, they disagreed less than before.
One night while my daughter was driving home from the store, my little grandson looked out and saw the big yellowish-orange moon.
“Mama, can I have the moon?” he asked.
Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the time she asked me the same thing.
I remember how proud I was when I walked my daughter down the aisle the day she said I do to my new son-in-law. I took my seat next to my wife, her mother. We held hands and I thought there is a lot of water that has passed under the bridge since she asked me for the moon. My grandson was the ring-bearer.
I have seen many good and bad days through the years. But, I would have to say everything I had been through was worth it. I did have some regrets; I guess we all will. Would I change anything? Well, hopefully not. Life had been good.
The springs seemed to get shorter and shorter and the summers would slip up on me. The crazy and wild summer days still enchanted my heart just like when I was a boy. My hands started to shake a lot more and my steps became slow and gentle. It was hard for me to remember things from just a short while ago.
My daughter went on to college and made it through. My grandson played ball for his school. My son-in-law had his own business and it did quite well. My wife had gone on to meet the Lord. It was hard for me to do the things I used to do. My daughter came by to see me everyday. I lived in a house with so many I didn’t know. The last time I saw her, she came and we spent some quality time together.
“Daddy, do you remember when I told you I wanted the moon?” she asked.
I thought a minute, which actually seemed like a long time.
I replied, “I guess not, honey. I don’t really recall.”
She told me about how she asked me for the moon when we were at the well.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I cannot remember,” I said.
She replied, “You never did give me an answer.”
“I didn’t,” I responded.
She stated, “No, Daddy, you didn’t. I have always wondered what you answer would have been.”
“Well, child, that was so long ago,” I replied.
“Do you have any idea what you might have said?” she asked.
“I guess I would have said it wasn’t mine to give,” I answered.
I miss sitting on my porch watching the summer rains fall. The smell of fresh rain falling upon the earth said so much. Where I used to run and play as a child and played with my daughter and grandchild are just fragments of lost memories to me.
It wasn’t long after our last meeting that my bed lay empty and my wheelchair was folded up. She thought of how I told her, time and time again, that my greatest disappointment in life was that I could not give her the moon.