All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Desk
Parent
Work has won him over.
He is no alcoholic—rather,
a workaholic.
I ask him what he would
like for Christmas:
he declines.
I ask him the cake’s flavor
for his birthday:
he says any.
I tell him that I forgot
to say “Happy Father’s Day:”
he says it’s fine.
My dad, strongest in
the mind yet softest in
the heart.
Child
We went for a walk
in Juniper Park.
He drove us there,
just us two, since
Mom had refused.
“You might as well
bring your bike,” he
adds as we were leaving
the apartment.
“But, I don’t know how
to ride it,” I blurted,
never, in actuality,
wanting to ride it since
I had found it sort of
scary.
“We’ll learn it together.”
But, just the other day
you were mad at me for
getting my times table
wrong. I didn’t want
to upset you again.
I still remember the slope
where you first taught me
how to ride my four-wheeler.
You, for once, had patience.
I thought the bike was scary.
You told me to just hold on.
I held on, and eventually I
got the hang of things.
Ten years later, I’m sitting
here, at my desk, with you
in the living room.
I still don’t know how to
communicate with you,
yet the smaller things in life
now make sense.
You told me not to
worry about Mom’s
reaction to a bad test
grade because you
would defend me.
You enticed me to
try seafood for the
first time with Legos
because you cared
about my health.
You were always there
to pick me up from school
whenever I felt sick or
uncomfortable.
You were there for me,
always stepping out of that
desk, whenever it came to
me.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
“Desk” is written for a lifelong father, role model, and friend: it’s a token of appreciation for all the games, concerts, and competitions at which he stayed; a thank-you note for putting up with me on the days when I wouldn't wake up or had missed the bus; and, lastly, a continuation of our rapport—though still sorta stilted, he communicates well—well, well for a math professor.