Dad

My father has broken his ankle! He was stepping down from a curb, and ended up falling in a heap. An immediate trip to his doctor revealed that yes, the bone was broken, and he'd need to use crutches for 6-8 weeks.

I'm a bit worried about him, because his house isn't terribly handicap accessible, and the crutches are a bit unwieldy. I went over to house today with kids in tow to see if there was anything I could and to just keep him company a bit. We ended up having a nice chat and enjoying some LOVELY apple turnovers (thank you Pillsbury).

At one point I was in the bedroom gathering laundry when I heard David crawl up into Dad's lap and ask him to read him a story. Dad perused through his beautiful leather-bound book collection and pulled out some volumes of poetry (Edgar Allen Poe) which he then proceeded to recite to an absolutely entranced David!

It may seem strange to think of a 4 year old boy being enthralled by his Grandfather reciting poetry. But then again, I can actually remember my father reading those same poems to me as a child (Annabel Lee, the Raven, and El Dorado), and I remember how fantastic I thought it was. There was always a hushed wonderment, listening to my father's passion for these poems--it was so evident in his reading and in his facial expressions. It really WAS exciting, and it was neat to see my child enjoying the same experience.

My Dad is truly one-of-a-kind.