The Vows of A Father

Vows of A Father

The crisp September air managed to seep its way through the quarter of an inch window gap that was left the previous nights before. I could still see the morning dew hesitantly scaling down the center of the frosted glass window, like a father anxiously waiting for his child to descend a playground slide.  Judging by the way the sunrays were dancing across the pastoral green landscaping, I knew that the time when I say, "I do" was drawing closer. In the corner of the third guest bedroom that I slept in stood a mahogany, Victorian mirror wrapped in cobwebs and noticeable carvings of owner's initials throughout the generations. What better way to rehearse my vows but t use the same mirror my grandfather passed to my father. Little did I know about the other generational gifts that my grandfather passed on.
​On the well draped California king mattress consumed by a red and soft yellow floral pattern comforter lay my rented, grey satin stained Vera Wang tuxedo with a soft pink tie and black patent leather dress shoes to match. Located inside the left side of the jacket, my vows rested, waiting to be whipped out and recited for an emotionally hungry crowd. With my vows in my right hand, I took a deep breath and called for my father to be by my side. As a child, my father would help me express my feelings and emotions through literature instead of sports and other physical activities. With just a stroke of a pen or pencil, I could create a world with no wars, sickness, or pain, but I was incapable of sharing my feelings for another person. My father told me that when the time was right, he was going to share with me one of his pieces that he wrote in an effort to inspire me to tap into my emotional side.
​"Mr. Elliott, Mr. Elliott," I announced to my dad, "I'm ready for my father to give me the big speech on women."
​Before my dad walked in the room, his overpowering musk of Cool Water cologne filled the hallway and forcefully made its way into the room like an intruder.
​"Son", my father prodded while gracefully walking across the wooden threshold, "I don't have a big speech about women or all the answers on how to make your wife happy, but what I do have is a piece of history that will help you navigate through your thoughts while preparing your vows." A smile danced on the edges of my mouth in excitement after hearing the words por out of my father's mouth like a running fountain of wisdom. My dad reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded, discolored piece of yellow construction paper with chicken scratch on the front of it.
​"Dad, what is that?" I questioned, "What am I supposed to do with a piece of scrap paper"?
​My father whispered in my ear, "It isn't what you do with it, it's what you learn from it that matters." My father unfolded the tarnished construction paper to reveal its contents. The title read, My Vows. I couldn't believe my eyes. I shook my head in disbelief that he was going to share the words he spoke to my mother on their wedding day. I remained apprehensive of the thought of my father and I connecting on this emotional level, but I certainly was not going to goof up the moment by questioning his motives. I needed to see the words that lay on the paper. My mind felt like a volcano explosion of curiosity and eagerness. Before my father could utter a word, I noticed a stream of tears flowing down his face like a melting popsicle.
​Struggling to speak, my dad's shaky voice began, "Son, growing up I also had a hard time expressing myself face not face with people. My father, you grandfather taught me to write my feelings down in a journal to better my skills as a writer and to also develop my ability to interact with others. I passed the same methods down to you."
​Overwhelmed with affection, I confessed that through my father's encouragement, I saw in increase in my grade every semester in y English course. Before my father told me about his childhood, I would have never guessed that what he instilled in me would carry over into my success with essays and other English assignments. My father glanced over at his silver Fossil watch and proclaimed that I had about thirty-five minutes until showtime. Without hesitation, my dad bolted towards the door like a burst of energy only to leave his own vows next to me.
​"Dad", I blurted, "you left something."
​"I want you to keep it and read it for inspiration", my father said.
​"I have a better idea," I proclaimed, "lets read it together".