Carried

He sweeps me in his arm with very little effort on his part, he's strong and I am weak. I can not walk it's to painful. My body is wrecked with fever my feet are swollen and blistered. I need medical attention he needs to comfort and reassure his baby that daddy is here. I try to make out what's going on, I know my daddy is with me. I put my arms around his neck and gently relax my head on his chest, I smell the scent of old spice and cigarettes. He carries me to the car and places me on the back seat. I hear the sound of my mother's voice in the background "Give her her pillow", one of my many siblings handed me my animal pillow. It's a lion my mother handmade from a pattern she purchased from McCall's, I slept with it every night. My sister Jill said "She's hot enough to fry an egg on", my brother Jimmy told her to shut up, that I was sick and it's not funny. I mentally thanked him. The car broke down on our way to the hospital and he carries me the rest of the way. The memory is dark, but clear. Like an old yellow stained cobweb overrun bottle, clear but the luster is gone.

Father why did you bring this back to me now? I was six years old when that happened.

I wanted you to remember how much you trusted your earthly father to carry you when you were to weak to walk.

Why? I know you, you have something to tell me, to teach me what is it?

I love you more.

I know.

I can carry you. Can you trust me to carry you?

Yes, please carry me; I'm so weak right now.

I am.