Papa is a Tree

Pa, I remember you arriving home from work,

hands on hips, imitating the branches of a tree:

"Papa is a tree. 

Try and climb papa!"

Gleefully adik and I obliged, 

having never climbed a real tree,

racing to climb you like the city kids we are

(and having little regard for the health of your back 😅).

It has been nearly 15 years now since we last did that.

Those years have seen us kids 

grow up, leave school, fly overseas.

While you, Pa; 

our football coach, 

our chauffeur,

our best friend, 

have stayed our steady tree. 

I guess it can be tricky playing that role..

Being that steady over the years, 

it's easy to blend into the background -

people forgetting how important you are.

As you put out roots into yesterday, 

giving us steady support;

as you put out shoots into tomorrow, 

sheltering us from Life's elements;

as you put out flowers and fruits, 

nurturing those around you;

as you put out leaves green, red and brown, 

coloring our lives.

Trees, like everything, grow old

but they do develop a certain beauty with old age:

barks scarred and wrinkled with wisdom, 

leaves no longer growing thick,

revealing the empty nests of those city kids

who once lived on you, but

now live halfway across the world.

They remember still what you once said,

hands on hips, imitating the branches of a tree:

"Papa is a tree. 

Try and climb papa!"

Happy birthday, pa..

We love you! ❤️❤️😬😬