My father always loved to see us
standing in his open door.
Come in, tell me about your day,
he’d welcome.  You wouldn’t
have time for a game, would you?
That being his favorite way
to pass the hours, playing cribbage.
Which of course led to conversations
we probably never would have had,
and lots of laughter.  Betting, too,
when he was sure he was right
about some point or another.
He learned with time and dollars lost,
that I could be counted on to win.
His memory was better than mine,
though, and he won a lot of games,
so, he got me there.
 
The kids, how they loved
that their grampa up the hill
hid candy bars and cold Cokes
in the back of his refrigerator, secret
pleasures not allowed at home.


© by Carolyn Chilton Casas.
Used with the author’s permission.