The Grateful Dad

My wife and I were driving this weekend and I looked down at the tops of my hands. I was shocked by how old they looked. Or maybe not so much shocked by how old they looked, but by the fact they looked like my dad’s hands. The hands that I’d see on weekends when he’d come over and help me carry drywall and 2 x 4s into the basement, as we made our way through building a music room. Or the countless other projects we would come across as new homeowners.

The wrinkles and emphasized knuckles I looked at in the afternoon sun as we drove home from our daughter’s apartment after spending a few hours with her sweet dog Celeste made it perfectly clear that I’m no spring chicken. But I wasn’t saddened by that revelation, or shocked at how fast time goes even though I’m now the same age as my dad was as we built walls and hung sheet rock nearly 30 years ago. I found myself grateful for where we are now, as opposed to a year or six months ago.

All of the health(physical and mental) issues my daughter was contending with thanks to a bad decision in regards to a boyfriend, then her losing her dog to that bad decision and the emotional turmoil that came with it felt like this endless cycle of phone calls, trips to her apartment, and conversations trying to keep her positive even knowing things weren’t looking good regarding her ever seeing that dog again. Then the waste of time that was small claims court in which we found out that a court of law won’t do anything about a dog being taken if the two in the midst of it aren’t married.

But a month later our daughter – probably not quite ready to adopt another dog – did just that. A pitbull mix named Celeste came home with our kiddo. She was thin, a little beat up, and we later found out had a parasite that was causing lots of messes that needed to be cleaned up. But right away it just seemed right. She was a big, intimidating dog that had been abused and lived a good portion of her 3 years in a cage, evident by the rough scabbed elbows on her legs. But despite that our daughter gave Celeste love she’d been lacking her whole life, at least the last several months living in the animal shelter. And Celeste filled a void created by that aforementioned bad decision, as well as the loss of her first dog.

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Even with a new dog the last several months haven’t been easy. It’s been a hard road, and as parents it’s been rough to see our daughter struggle. She moved from one apartment to the other. There were some medicine issues that caused her to have a really hard time getting up for work in the morning, which when you have to be at work at 4:30am at Starbucks that can cause problems. She was eventually let go because she was late too many times. A tax refund arrived around the same time which was a life preserver. It kept her afloat until she could get another job, which she did. She’s working for a gardening center that handles the plants at big chain stores. It’s flexible hours wise, and it’s money. It’s not what she was making before, but with a little help from us she’s getting by.

But the big thing is that last week she was hired at a local spa. It’s a place where they do hair cuts, facial stuff, manicures, pedicures, and massages. Very upscale and also in our hometown. She was accepted into their apprentice program where she’ll work under a stylist and learn how to do hair cuts their way. For someone who’s graduating next month this is a huge opportunity. You don’t have to have your own client list, and you get paid an hourly wage plus benefits and vacation time. It’s the ideal spot for someone to learn right out of beauty school and get paid. It’s beyond what we could have hoped for her.

Last week was Celeste’s 4th birthday. My daughter had big ideas to throw a birthday party for her at her place; balloons, a cake, presents, the whole nine yards. Unfortunately because her(and us quite frankly) are sort of strapped for cash at the moment the big birthday party will have to wait till later in the summer. So she saved up all her tips at school and went and bought Celeste a birthday hat, some treats, and a cupcake. It was a celebration for just her and Celeste.

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On our way home from hanging out with the pooch my wife took me to the Pisgah Marsh Boardwalk. It’s a spot maybe 10 miles from our house. I’d never been there. It’s this secluded boardwalk that winds through the woods and overlooks a small marsh that feels like it’s a million miles from home, yet is only a stone’s thrown away. I found it incredibly peaceful. They bring students out there to observe from colleges and high schools, and apparently local kids come out to hang out as well. There’s lots of graffiti and initials carved in the benches built into the boardwalk.

It felt like something locked in time; a portal to some other place. I bet you could get a lot of good thinking done out there. You’re in the heart of an ecosystem, seeing nature do its thing with no interruption from those a-holes called humans. The boardwalk were our premium seats to enjoy the show nature was performing on its stage. Turtles and fish sashaying by lily pads, while water made its way from Webster Lake not far away.

My wife works for a non-profit that its main goal is to keep these places clean, untouched, and sacred. From lakes and streams to more environmentally safe farming practices, what they do is try to keep the waters around our watershed clean so maybe future generations can stumble up it and be as overwhelmed and at peace as I was yesterday. Being out there yesterday put things into perspective.

I guess my wife and I are a non-profit of sorts for our kids. We do everything we can to make sure they’re all safe and clean and happy, and set up to do the best that they can in their own lives. If they need help in any way, be it emotionally, physically, mentally, or financially, well we’re their support system. It doesn’t stop at 18. Our savings account can attest to that, but these are just temporary inconveniences. They’re all on the right track, and after all the struggling and heartache and financial punches to the gut our 20 year old(almost 21) and Miss Celeste the wonder pooch are finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

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My hands look old. They do look like my dad’s hands, and I’m okay with that. They’re worn from work, from play, from abuse, and mostly from just keeping busy. I can live with that. Without the lines, the freckles, and the accentuated knuckles I’d have no maps that led to how things were ever built in my life. The lines are the struggles that led to solutions. That led to a day walking with my best friend in the early May sunshine, thinking about how good things are going to be. How good things are right now. In the moment.