How’s your life going? Good? Well, mine sucks. I feel bad complaining, but it seems like it has been two steps forward eight steps back for me.
My niece and I decided we needed to get away. We planned a trip to Park City, Utah. Next thing I knew, my husband, daughter, my other niece, her boyfriend, my brother and his wife were coming, too. Arrangements were made, menus agreed upon, games that I could win were purchased and off we went.
Except we didn’t. The morning we were to leave, one of us got sick with a fever. Not wanting to be a super-spreader, we didn’t go to Park City. The pictures my family sent were beautiful. There were wide open spaces, s’mores around the fire, hikes on trails … but I wasn’t there. Though if I was, I wouldn’t have been able to hike because I screwed up my heel, and my hip is all wonky. And here is where I stop complaining for one reason. I had a dream about my dad.
My dad was one of a kind. He inherited a roofing company that was heavily in debt when his dad died. At the time, he and my mom had a few kids. It would have been easy for him to walk away from the company that carried his last name, but he didn’t. He paid off the debts, raised six kids, sent all of us to private high schools, helped us get through college and never once complained about what a pain in the ass we were.
When I was little, I would go with him on Saturdays while he wrote estimates on roofs. I would wait in the car and play with his street guide or ruler. We would have lunch at whatever tavern was nearby, the Hi-Pointe, Krueger’s or Cousin Hugo’s. We always sat at the bar so we could talk to the bartender. My dad thought they had interesting stories. Today, someone would probably call Child Protective Services on him, but I always had fun and felt special sitting there with my dad. He was proud of all his kids. We were smart, getting good educations and were going to make a difference in the world. He knew that before any of us did.
So when I read in the paper that Cousin Hugo’s was closing after 80 years in business, I was sad. I thought about my dad, as well as my brothers and sister and our sibling lunches we had there. That night, I had a nice dream about my dad. We were at Cousin Hugo’s having a beer and talking, nothing more than that. I woke up and realized what a brat I was. Yes, I missed a trip to Park City. Yes, I am limping around, and I hate getting older, but so what? My dad would be disappointed in my complaints, and there is nothing worse than disappointing my dad. So I take it back. Everything is great, and I hope it is with you, too.