one day

one day we took a bike ride
just the two of us
father and son
I was 37
he was 60.

it was fall
and the trees were brilliant that day
orange red and gold
even the sky was shining.

he wore a bright red t-shirt
we rode along the old canal
all the way to the dam and back
we stopped now and then to take a break
take a picture
or talk a bit
but we didn’t talk much
the talking didn’t come so easy.

at twilight he was riding ahead of me
that red t-shirt on his back
blazing like a banner in the sun
I realized in that moment
that I’d finally had the kind of day
I always wanted to have with him
I also realized
that it was never gonna happen again
and I was right
but what a day that was.

(PDF version)

The one day by Rick Belden, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

October 26th, 2008 in poems | tags: adult survivor, canal, father, father wound, healing, Poetry

2 Comments Add your own

1. Lisa M. | October 30th, 2008 at 2:54 pm

I really identified with this poem, Rick. I almost could have written it about my dad (if I could write poetry). All during my childhood, I wanted to “earn” my dad’s approval (why did I have to earn it?) and nearly drove myself crazy trying to be the perfect child so that he would approve. I remember clearly bringing home yet another report card of straight A’s and hearing him say “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” It was like he put a pin straight into my balloon and it burst. This type of thing happened over and over again until I stopped telling him anything I was excited about.

The one day I spent with my dad that I remember positively, like the day you wrote about in your poem, was when I was about 20 and had to have surgery. My dad spent the night after my surgery in my hospital room on a cot, so that he could be there if I needed anything. He said he’d never been able to take us kids to doctor’s appointments when we were growing up because he was working, and he wanted to do this for me. It was the closest I ever felt to my dad.
2. Rick | October 31st, 2008 at 9:53 am

Thanks for your comment, Lisa. One day can certainly mean a lot when it’s all you have. My relationship with my father deteriorated back to its previous state not long after that day, but the beauty of the experience was that I wasn’t fooling myself about what it meant as it happened. I knew him well enough to realize that I wasn’t likely to have another day like that with him again, so I soaked up every moment and every aspect with all of the gratitude and awareness I had. The result has been a living memory that stands on its own and has never lost its luster, regardless of what happened in the relationship afterward.