My Father's Handwritng
His broad, left hand gripping the pen.
A choke hold.
half-script half- print.
With a slight slant.
As unique as his laughter.
As certain as his kindness.
I take stock of the things I’ve kept.
His “parent” signature bearing down
on the manilla report card that went back to school.
For sure, a visual, note to the teacher...
“She will be buckling down” next semester.
His athletic hand
rotating the golf scorecard sideways.
The way lefties do.
Penning pars and birdies
into cramped little squares.
Always, I return to his letters.
I’ve saved them all.
The ones that thank me.
The ones that are proud of me.
The ones inscribed in my heart.
Linda R. O'Connell © 2013