I once believed a man's strength
was easy to define.
	My father's tan, work-sculpted hands
lifting my youthful, squirming frame
to the nearest branch of our oak tree
in the yard of childhood home.
	Tracing the lines of muscles as he
wrapped arms around me, comforting me,
and I drifted off to lazy, Sunday
naptime indulgence.
	A moment I recall vividly due to
the watchful, cameraed eye of
maternal remembrance.

	I once judged a father's impact by
basketball games tied, tennis matches
in which I was pushed farther, at times
flying to unforgiving concrete landing strip,
	even when illness became apparent
his familiar hand bracing my back
in adolescent school achievement
	photograph,
the cane hidden behind me
	I remember it's presence, though I
don't remember it's necessity
previously that night he walked me to
my intellectual scholastic club
recognition, suspecting he feared his
infirmity would bring embarrassment and,
though I lacked the vocabulary
and the forethought to tell him, I beamed
	with pride
	So, like many previous instances and
so many to come, he put his comfort
and emotional self-being on the shelf
	to guide me down my path;

	I once learned of a father's strength
looking back into a crystal clear, often
remembered, memory
	a recollection in which that strength
allowed him to cry, weep without
reservation into my young, consoling arms
in the darkness, in the relative calm
following the biggest storm of parental
feuding I had witnessed at that time
	the grace in his nature that allowed
him to beg the forgiveness of his child
daughter, fearing, he had, in some
small way, disrupted my innocence;

	I once realized the capabilities of a man's
heart when I saw him, tired and
hurt by one unfair circumstance after
another, decide to stand up and,
whatever the consequences to his health
and spirit, raise two young girls to
be beautiful, happy women
	alone and bereft he chose to live
his life for the children that needed
what strength he had more than
he did;

	I once believed that a man's strength
could be defined by his physical
prowess
	by the things his hands could
produce and respect his power could
command,
	my father has shown me that a
man's strength can be realized by the
characteristics of his spirit,
his willingness to sacrifice his comfort for
his daughters, his ability to pass
down a wealth of humor, memories of
a rich childhood, and forgiving eyes;

	I understand more and more every
day that every ounce of beauty in my
heart, every smile that I experience
fully, every part of my life that
I am thankful for has been made
possible by the strength my father
has allowed me to see in him.

	For Dad,
		Happy Birthday.
			I Love You

Nikki
October 8th 1999