Dad

Dad
Is tired
He’s so tired
It’s there in his eyes
Notice the slump of his shoulders
He’s too exhausted and stressed to even fake a smile
For years I rifled through those pages not noticing much more than the dated décor

But
Dad
Was tired
That’s clear now
The photo album’s proof
Created in the seventies
Its pages brim with photographs of exhausted Dad
Long before he knew his efforts would pay off and before we cared to contemplate things

Yes
Dad
Was tired
Not so mad
And he wasn’t sure
Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
We just assumed that he knew exactly what to do
It stood to reason since he always had the words we needed if not the delivery

So
Tired
Tired Dad
Tired Dad knew
We resented that
But we depended on him too
Depended on him always knowing just what to do
An enormous challenge and burden for anyone but he signed up for that we thought

We
Three
We kids
Angry kids
Maybe we didn’t care
Didn’t want to hear we’re thankless
How we had shamed him by talking back to a grownup
His happiness depended on what was right and on all things being done correctly

Done
How?
How strange
We thought then
But we and he grew
I didn’t remember tired Dad
Memories of angry younger Dad misrepresent
He lived as he knew how being tired and scared and doubtful and worried and loving too

Dad