happy father’s day to all who would swim as far as was needed in any storm.

This is my 33rd Father’s Day without my father. For him, this poem. This perfect father’s day poem. A poem that reminds me not only of Daddy–swimming as far as was needed until he couldn’t anymore, and then, too–but also of my stepfather, Boyce, and of Mr Brilliant, a brilliant father with a heart as big as the ocean, a man who swims the storm for these two girls, always.
We would climb the highest dune,
from there to gaze and come down:
the ocean was performing;
we contributed our climb.
Waves leapfrogged and came
straight out of the storm.
What should our gaze mean?
Kit waited for me to decide.
Standing on such a hill,
what would you tell your child?
That was an absolute vista.
Those waves raced far, and cold.
“How far could you swim, Daddy,
in such a storm?”
“As far as was needed,” I said,
and as I talked, I swam.
-William Stafford
