So, it occurs to me that my dad wants me to take him bowling.
Really, it hasn’t so much occurred to me as the information has finally penetrated my brain. I’m pretty sure my mom has said to me on approximately three different occasions lately, Your dad would like to go bowling again. The last time she said this was on Thursday when I went over to visit them. At that time, I realized this wasn’t the first time my mom had said those words to me lately. I had heard them before, but forgotten them just as quickly. This time they stuck and now I’ve got a case of the guilts because I haven’t offered to take my dad bowling before now.
I wonder why she didn’t just add the words, Why don’t you ask him? Or Do you think you could make some time to do this? It would make him really happy. My mom has known me my whole life. Doesn’t she know I’m kind of dense sometimes?
And wouldn’t this be so much easier if my dad would just look at me and say, “I’d like to go bowling with you. Do you want to go sometime? Let’s set a date.”
Wouldn’t that just make sense?
But no. See, my family doesn’t operate that way. And as much as it’s been proven over the years that in spite of our best efforts, none of us is going to read one another’s minds, we just keep trying. We toss hints out there, hoping someone will catch on, but it doesn’t work. Never has. I’m kind of black and white in this regard. If my dad wants to go bowling with me, he should just ask and I will say yes and we’ll go bowl and live happily ever after.
Whatever. It’s taken a while but I’ve finally got it in my head that my dad wants to bowl and so I’m going to ask him if he wants to go tomorrow. With his vision, limited strength and arthritis, I doubt he’ll be able to bowl more than a game or maybe two. I don’t care. That’s fine.
I was just thinking that no matter how few games we play, we might be there a while. My dad doesn’t move quickly. Also, he doesn’t speak quickly. If he’s got something to tell you… if there’s a story in the works…it’s not gonna be a short story. (And you’ve always wondered where I get it from. Now you know!) Oh gosh, I just had an awful flashback to my youth. When I misbehaved, the worst punishment I could ask for would be a lecture from dad. He’d make me stand in the kitchen while he sat in his chair and talked on and on. And on. For HOURS. (It seemed like hours anyway.) I would stand there and roll my eyes, saying, “I know. I know! I KNOW! You SAID that already.” It’s a wonder the man didn’t haul off and smack my face.
I digress. Anyway… I guess I’ll give my dad a call and see if he wants to go bowling tomorrow. I could sit here and try to telepathically let him know I’d like to go bowling with him, but I think I’ll give this direct communication thing a shot.