Ernie was a thoughtful soul.
Not especially religious or materialistic.
His children, all mature adults,
Would consider his birthday
As a time for a card and a call.
They had long since abandoned
Any hope of surprising Ernie with a present.
It did happen once.
His eldest daughter sent a bathrobe.
Nothing extraordinary.
He had another robe, but this one matter.
Ernie wore it to bed every night,
No matter the weather.
He speculated on the pleasure the robe offered,
Knowing from the onset “why”,
But not understanding its uniqueness.
It was no warmer or more comfortable
Then the one that remained, unused,
In the deep recess of his closet.
This was not the first gift from this daughter.
It was the touch!
Over time he decided that
Being enclosed in this off-white heavy robe
Carried a message of love.
Had one of Ernie’s friends
Offered this absurd conclusion
Ernie would surely have scoffed.
This daughter was lousy at returning calls
Or initiating long distance conversations.
But the goddamn bathrobe brought back
A time of “Zacks
On The Prairie of Tracks”,
Told to a five year old at bedtime,
And hats purchased to facilitate
A story of a little girl pilot.
Ernie’s memory might have been faulty
But the remembered images were “AWESOME”.
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