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An
Alaska Airlines jet zoomed across the sunset sky carrying 75
passengers into the Portland airport. “Are we almost there yet?
Will Dad be there to meet us?” asked a fat little boy, pulling
on his mother’s sleeve. The man in front of him rolled his eyes.
That little brat had been asking that for the past hour. He
would always accompany his queries with ferocious kicks on the
back of his seat. The businessman with his laptop under his seat
had been unable to think about the project for which he had been
sent into Portland. He had been unable to sleep. He hadn’t even
been able to flip through the magazines filled with expensive
doodads. Finally he turned around and asked the boy to stop with
the harsh command, “Please, little boy, stop kicking my seat. If
you insist of kicking a seat then trade places with your mother
and kick this old man’s seat. He’s asleep and surely won’t
care.”
The little boy was
quiet, subdued by the man’s harsh tones. He looked dejectedly
down at his dimpled knees. He couldn’t help it, he thought, if
his feet hit the seat. His legs were too short to hang over the
edge of his chair, but were so long that they almost touched the
back in front of him. When he got excited about something his
feet would just kick the seat themselves, no matter how often he
reminded them not to or how hard he pinched them when he did.
But if he traded seats with his mother then he couldn’t look out
the window and then how would he occupy himself for the rest of
this age long journey? He turned his downcast eyes to the window
and looked out. “Mommy! Mommy! Look! It’s Mount Hood!” He
pointed excitedly at the great mountain, but suddenly his
excitement was cut short. In his great enthusiasm he had kicked
the seat. He saw the harsh man drop his head into his hand. “I’m
sorry, Mr. Man,” he said sincerely, tapping the man on his
suit-clad shoulder. “Did you see Mount Hood?”
The man closed his eyes
tightly and rubbed them with his hand. This cheerful, bumbling
little boy reminded him of his own little boy at his home on the
other side of the country. But he had been around his son far
too little of late. He remembered his sad look when he had told
him that he couldn’t make it to his baseball game. But he just
had to work. If it had been the first game that he couldn’t
attend then it wouldn’t be so bad, but he hadn’t made it to any
games and the season was almost over. The last game would be the
day that he got back from this business trip.
He had told his son that
he probably wouldn’t be able to make it. The undersized boy had
lowered his disappointed eyes and turned to leave the room. He
put his hand on the door handle and slowly opened the door. Just
as he went out he looked back into his father’s eyes that were
so like his own. The words that he spoke with that one look
before he turned and sulked down the hall could have filled
volumes. He told his father with that look that he was no father
at all. He told him that real fathers found time in their busy
work schedule to play catch with their sons and to go to their
ball games. With that look he told the man sitting at the desk
in front of the laptop and surrounded by papers that he hated
him. He had wanted to love him, but his young love was quenched
like a flame with no oxygen.
The man had put his head
in his hands. He looked gloomily at the family portrait sitting
by his computer. Two faces smiled falsely at him, mocking him as
the failure that he was. His son’s smile was not heartfelt and
his wife’s eyes challenged him from under their eyeliner. He
hadn’t been able to make it to get his picture taken with them
because of an important business meeting and now he realized
that the picture was only too true. This family portrait that
was lacking it’s patriarch was more of a family portrait than it
would be if he was in it, for if he was there it would only be
more of a lie.
Dejectedly he had
finished up his work for the evening and packed up his papers.
He had climbed the stairs and opened his bedroom door. The
bathroom light was on and his wife was lying in bed. His
suitcase was packed and stood open, ready for his toothbrush and
other last minute things that he would use in the morning. His
wife had taken care of him as usual.
She rolled over on her
side and looked at him as he got out his pajamas. “What was your
answer?” she asked, knowing it was a useless question.
“Oh,” he had sighed
heavily. “I told him that I wouldn’t be able to make it.”
She flung herself over
on her back and her stormy eyes bore into the ceiling as though
she wanted to burn holes right up to the stars. “Why? The game
isn’t till the evening and you get home at five. It’s his last
game and it means so much to him.” Her burning eyes were on him
now and he switched off the light so that he couldn’t see them
as they bore into him. But he knew they were still on him.
“You know how busy I am
when I come home from these trips. I’ll have a load of things to
deal with. Besides, I’ll be tired from driving the hour home
from the airport.”
“You’ll have much more
to deal with than business if you don’t be more of a father to
your son.” There was a pause and she added, “And a husband to
your wife.” She rolled over and he knew that the discussion was
closed.
If only he could tell
her how much he loved them both! If only he could tell her how
much it meant to him that she had packed his suitcase with all
of the right clothes all folded perfectly, ready to take out and
wear. If only he could tell her how much he loved watching her
and their son clean up from dinner when they thought he was on
the phone. But he didn’t.
Instead he had rolled
over and slowly drifted off to sleep. Now as he sat on the plane
and listened as the fat little boy asked him if he saw Mount
Hood he wished that he had spoken. He wished that he had told
his beautiful wife just how much she meant to him. He wished
that he had gone into his son’s room and told him that he would
try to make it to the game, even if it meant he had to drive
extra fast on the way home and skip dinner.
He opened his eyes and
looked at Mount Hood at the boy’s request and was amazed at its
beauty. It was like a white handkerchief dropped among a sea of
green. He wondered what his wife and son would have said if they
were here with him now. He would have smiled as he did now when
the boy behind him said, “It sure is pretty isn’t it,”
unknowingly kicking the seat. And he wasn’t reminded of it
either.
The kicking increased as
the plane began to descend. The fat boy had lots to point out
and kick the seat over. He exclaimed over the Columbia River and
the control tower and the other planes and just about everything
else. “Look, Mommy, at all the cars! They look like the little
beetles that I squished at Grandma’s house. And just think,
there’s a person in every one of them! Maybe Daddy’s in one of
them. Do you think he’ll be waiting for us?”
The man smiled at the
boy’s enthusiasm. Had his own son said things like that when he
and his mother were returning from a trip to his aunt’s house?
Had he been so excited to see if his father was waiting for him
at the airport? If he had been then he would have been
disappointed because a phone call had kept his father away. The
man wondered if this boy’s father would be waiting or if such a
small thing like a phone call would be keeping him away.
Finally the airplane
landed and passengers began getting off. The boy and his mother
stood and stretched for a minute. Then they began gathering
their bags. The mother opened up the hatch above her seat but
was stopped from taking down her heavy bag. “Let me help you
with that,” the man said. “I’ve only got my laptop.”
“Oh thank you,” she
replied. She turned to her son and asked, “Have you got
everything? You didn’t drop any of your cars or books?”
The boy smiled up at
her, his eyes sparkling out of his chubby face. He had manfully
slung his little backpack onto his back and looked like he was
ready to climb the Mount Hood that he had just been exclaiming
over. “Lets hurry and go see Dad!”
They followed the line
of people leaving the plane and at last made it to the building.
Their fellow travelers were all headed off to the rest of their
lives. Some hurried off to accomplish their goal. Others
lingered to greet those who had come to welcome them.
“Daddy!” cried the boy
running over to throw his chubby arms around a man from whom he
must have gotten his figure. His mother ran over to them and
embraced them both.
The man surveyed this
happy scene and quietly dropped the heavy bag next to them. Then
he walked off to find a place to use his cell phone.
The boy turned to look
for the harsh man that had warned him not to kick his seat. He
saw him by the window anxiously dialing a number. Silently he
hoped that he was calling someone who would make him happy. He
had looked so unhappy when he dropped his head in his hand. “If
he had a dad like I do then he would be more happy,” he thought
to himself as he grabbed that wonderful dad’s hand and followed
him off to their happy little home, not knowing that he had
helped change the course of at least one person’s life.
Anxiously the man
listened as the phone rang. Ring…. Would they pick it up? Ring….
What were they doing? Ring…. Maybe they weren’t going to pick up
the phone. They did have caller ID. Ring…. Then came his voice,
“We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message so
that we can get back to you.”
The man paused. He had
been so full of words for his family, but now that it came to
speaking them he didn’t know what to say. “Hi, it’s me,” he
began. “I was thinking on the plane, and, uh. Well, I just
wanted to say that I got here safely. Love you both. Bye.”
He put his cell phone in
his pocket and started off to his lonely hotel room. Why hadn’t
he been able to say all the words that were welling up inside of
him now? Why hadn’t he told them that he would try to make it to
the last game? He just hadn’t found the courage. Well, he would
make it to the game. He just had to. The little glimpse that
he’d had at the happiness that the little fat boy enjoyed made
him feel guilty down to the depths of his soul. He saw just how
deprived his own son was. He saw just how much a father’s love
meant to a small boy and he was determined to make up for lost
time.
That Saturday he was
still firm in his resolution. The jet that carried him just
couldn’t move fast enough, especially since it had started later
than planned. What if he couldn’t make in time? How could he
convince his son that he had really tried to make it?
At the flight change in
the middle of the day there were still more delays and the plane
didn’t get going till half an hour later. The man couldn’t sit
still in his seat. He looked absently out of his window with
unseeing eyes. All he saw was the reproaching look that his son
had given him and the burning look of his wife’s chastising
eyes.
At last the plane landed
but already he was going to be rushed if he was going to arrive
in time to see his son’s last game. He sped down the open
freeway making excellent time. But as soon as he got off of his
exit he ran into traffic. It seemed that every car in the city
was out and about. “Haven’t you people ever heard of walking or
riding bikes? Come on, aren’t you worried about air pollution?”
He was half an hour late
when he pulled into the parking lot at the park where his only
son was playing his last game. He was playing it with the
knowledge that his father didn’t care about him.
The skinny little boy
had adjusted his baseball cap and scanned the cheering crowd for
his father. He waved back at his mom but his eyes didn’t rest on
the only face he wished was there. He saw Bobby’s dad who only
liked football. He saw Tommy’s mom, looking more at her
fingernails than at the game. But at least they were there. His
dad wasn’t even there. His dad didn’t care about him enough even
to come to his last game.
He dragged his feet out
to the field and the game began. What was the point of even
trying? His dad wouldn’t care if he won or lost. He wouldn’t
even no the difference. A pop fly was hit by the first batter.
It flew through the air and headed right for the boy who’s
scowling face showed more than the fact that he missed such an
easy catch that his mind was not on the game. The ball, as
though it understood that he didn’t care flew the rest of the
inning to Bobby and Tommy and the other boys who had parents
there that they were eager to impress.
And so for the rest of
the game the boy’s face was covered with that disinterested
scowl and he didn’t even try to impress anybody. Who would care
anyway?
He stood up to bat one
last time. He looked over his shoulder and saw his mom, her
hands clasped nervously in her lap and her eyes fixed on him.
She cared about him, even if his dad didn’t. His gaze turned to
his other teammates. Bobby was on base. He was ready to run for
all he was worth. It was a close game and he was trying to show
his dad that baseball could be fun to watch. Tommy was on the
bench with an untouched bag of sunflower seeds. He was hoping
that his mother would look up from her fingernails and see just
how much he wanted to please her.
The boy looked at the
pitcher and prepared to do his best. If his dad didn’t care,
well, he might as well try hard for the team and for his mother.
And when the ball came his way he swung like he had never swung
before and watched as the ball flew over the fence and out of
the park. The cheer that went up from the crowd was enough to
turn Babe Ruth over in his grave. But one cheer was louder than
the rest. The boy’s team lifted him up on their shoulders and
carried him around the field. If only his dad could see him now.
He looked out on the screaming crowd. Bobby’s dad was standing
on his bench, his hands waving enthusiastically in the air.
Tommy’s mother had forgotten her fingernails and her voice was
raised with the rest. The boy’s mom was jumping up and down and
that’s when he saw him. Next to his mom was the very person he
had thought didn’t care enough to make it to his last game. And
now he was there. He had seen him hit that ball over the fence
and now his cheers were louder than anyone else’s. Their eyes
met and the boy lifted up his arms and yelled for all he was
worth. His dad did care about him!
The End
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