Napo 14: My Dad
Every weekend, you’d wake early,
Make sure there was coffee in the pot
And something sweet on the table
Before lacing up your shoes
And heading out to the open road.
Where were you running, dad?
I’d wonder that, watching you
From my bedroom window,
Your spider legs carrying you
Down the street, then out of my sight.
When you’d return, hour later,
Drenched in sweat and bringing
The scent of the road and the sunshine
With you, the day would begin.
Dad, now my own legs, thin and long
In a pair of compression tights
Carry me miles and miles and miles.
And I know where I’m running—
In your footprints, your shadow,
Your sunshine. Some mornings,
We are blessed to run together,
Side by side, counting miles
And laughing at ourselves,
The ridiculousness of this endeavor,
To count the miles these feet
Have traveled. I know I’m your daughter,
Always running, always moving.