Happy Birthday Dad

If he was home for his birthday
He’d come home from the store
After being on his feet all day
Counting those pills
And typing up labels
Confirming ‘scripts
Filing insurance forms
Staring at bills he owed
And hoping people stepped up
And took care of their charges.

He’d come home and fill a glass
With an elixir of golden hue
Just one short glass - on the rocks
Watered down whiskey
Which has never appealed to me.
He’d sit in his chair
And grab his pipe
Deftly filling with his thumb
Gently packing it
And lighting it while drawing it in

The news would be on
While the smoke rolled out
The ice would clink
Randomly as he sipped his drink
From time
To time
Followed by MASH or Cheers
And then he’d let out a chuckle
At Hawkeye’s or Woody’s antics
That floated across the room

​They were simple birthdays
We’d get him a gift
Like soap on a rope
And a card,
All three of us signed
“To the best dad ever,
We love you!
Chris
Matthew
JT”