Susan did know why she had awoken so early. It was just one of those things, and she took advantage of it. It was Sunday, after all. The day she allowed herself to relax and wind down from her hectic schedule, which was even more hectic than usual because of the fast-approaching holidays. It seemed she hardly had time to breathe between work and family obligations. Much less decompress. So a dawn walk along the lake parkway was just what the doctor ordered.
It was a brisk morning. She thought the temperature hovered around the fifty-degree mark, but she could not be sure. She refused to look at her phone to confirm her conclusion, as it was unimportant. She already spent too much time on her phone anyway. She only brought it with her so her husband would not worry. Other than that, it stayed in her pocket.
The cool air felt invigorating against her skin as she walked the parkway. The lake was dead calm, as there was no noticeable wind to be felt. The only sounds to hear were the early birds starting their day and the occasional hoof steps of oncoming morning joggers, which became more frequent as time passed. She thought that at any moment, one would run her over as they passed her by. So when a park bench happened along her way, she took the opportunity and sat down.
She crossed her legs and held the cup of coffee she had brought with her with both hands to warm them. The bench itself was in a perfect position to view the lake and the playground, where parents brought their children to play. It was always this way. The park had not changed a lot through the years. Everything was still in the same position as it always was. Sure, the swings were not the same ones her dad swung her on, but they remained where they always had been.
It had been over a year since his passing, but she could not help but think of him. She missed him terribly. Her mind could not help but drift back in time. There she was as a young girl, seven years old, swinging on the swings with her dad's help pushing her along. She recalled the conversation as if it were yesterday.
She wanted to know why it was always so windy. Taking her age into account, he proceeded to tell her. He said it was always windy because old friends and relatives who had passed away stayed with us. It was their way of still talking to us. Susan speculated, “Like Grandpa?” “Yes, like Grandpa,” he replied. Susan took great comfort in hearing this. For weeks, she would openly announce to her parents that it was windy out and Grandpa was talking to her.
It was only after her mother, a science teacher by trade, had enough of what she called this “ridiculous fairy tale” and thoroughly explained to her what really caused the wind. Confused after this, Susan marched right up to her father, who was in the garage, and demanded to know why he had told her that the wind was Grandpa talking to us. He picked her up and sat on the little stool in the garage. The one he used to work on vehicles with and told her that sometimes things could have multiple explanations. Just because one thing was true, it did not mean the other wasn’t. This seemed to confuse her, and he quickly asked her, “Besides, who are you going to believe, your mom or good old fun dad?” Without hesitation, she smiled and promptly declared, “Mom!” He tried to ask, surprised, but she was, without a doubt, a momma’s girl. He decided to press her for a reason, made his best-shocked impression, and asked her, “Mom?” Are you going to take her word over mine? Why?” Susan just giggled and said, “ Because mom says she is much smarter than you.” She then leaped down from his lap, all while laughing, and sprinted into the house from whence she came.
Two joggers ran by her on the park bench, jolting her back into the present. Susan collected herself, sipped her coffee, looked over the lake, and felt sad that there was no wind this morning. So without consciously knowing it, she spoke out loud to herself, closed her eyes, and said, “Talk to me, Dad.”
A moment passed, and a slow gust of wind blew through her hair, and a smile appeared. She opened her eyes, looked out at the lake, and said, “ I miss you too, Dad.”