Love, Dad
He wrote to me:
Somewhere in all his “pack rat” stuff he had a hard copy of a list
Of things that a woman should have
He wrote to me:
He saw it in his stuff when he re-packed from time to time
He got it when I was a baby
Thought of it as kind of a “guide”
For what he wanted to make possible for me
These were things a woman should have
By the time she is grown
He wrote to me:
Being impatient, he wanted me to have them all
As soon as possible
There were things on the list
That he couldn’t do for me
But he believed I WOULD be able to do them for myself
I was sixteen
He wrote to me:
In three short years I would be nineteen
He wrote to me:
At nineteen, he was completely on his own
He had a car that his parents had bought him
But it died and he got his first motorcycle
It was old and his grandfather gave him $300 to fix it
Life was hard, but he liked it
He wrote to me:
His motorcycle was stolen and by twenty-one
He was using public transportation
And couldn’t keep a roof over his head
Without a roommate
He wrote to me:
It was a constant struggle
He joined the Army because he really had no other option
His grandparents wanted to help him
But he didn’t want to risk wasting any of their money
Or long-term security
He wrote to me:
He never wanted me to face what he did
He wrote to me:
That to his “pack rat list” he added:
One
A safe and secure home
Two
A safe car you are not ashamed to drive
Three
A means to get a college education
Without going so far into debt with loans
That you have to question its value
He wrote to me:
Go to college for a reason, not just to “be there”
It took him a long time to figure that out
He would advise anyone to wait to go
Until they are ready to be serious
He wrote to me:
By thirty, you should have
One
One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to
And one who reminds you of how far you’ve come
Two
A decent piece of furniture
Not previously owned by anyone else in your family
Three
Something perfect to wear
If the employer or man of your dreams
Wants to see you in an hour
Four
A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella
You’re not ashamed to be seen carrying
Five
A youth you’re content to move beyond
Six
A past juicy enough
That you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age
Seven
The realization that you are actually going to have an old age
And some money set aside to help fund it
Eight
An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account
All of which nobody has access to but you
Nine
A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded
Ten
One friend who always makes you laugh
And one who lets you cry
Eleven
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill,
And a black lace bra
Twelve
Something ridiculously expensive
That you bought for yourself
Just because you deserve it
Thirteen
The belief that you deserve it
Fourteen
A skin-care regimen,
An exercise routine,
And a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life
That don’t get better after thirty
Fifteen
A solid start on a satisfying career,
A satisfying relationship,
And all those other facets of life that do get better
He wrote to me:
My mom and he were
And would always be
Very proud to be my parents
But they had wanted to make my life a fairy tale
And that wasn’t really doing me a favor
He wrote to me:
Life is not a fairy tale
It is a tremendous challenge
And all any of us can hope to do
Is make our life look easy to other people
He wrote to me:
That I would make some poor choices sometimes
That everybody does
That we are human
He wrote to me:
Every generation says the same thing to the next
But the world is a much more complicated place
Than it was when he was my age
But he promised me this:
The choices I would make over the next five years
Would lay the groundwork for the life I lived twenty years later
He assured me:
Every dream he had for the future
Was connected to my success, security, and well-being
He wrote to me:
It’s easy to love you, Rachel
We always will
Love, Dad
Somewhere in all his “pack rat” stuff he had a hard copy of a list
Of things that a woman should have
He wrote to me:
He saw it in his stuff when he re-packed from time to time
He got it when I was a baby
Thought of it as kind of a “guide”
For what he wanted to make possible for me
These were things a woman should have
By the time she is grown
He wrote to me:
Being impatient, he wanted me to have them all
As soon as possible
There were things on the list
That he couldn’t do for me
But he believed I WOULD be able to do them for myself
I was sixteen
He wrote to me:
In three short years I would be nineteen
He wrote to me:
At nineteen, he was completely on his own
He had a car that his parents had bought him
But it died and he got his first motorcycle
It was old and his grandfather gave him $300 to fix it
Life was hard, but he liked it
He wrote to me:
His motorcycle was stolen and by twenty-one
He was using public transportation
And couldn’t keep a roof over his head
Without a roommate
He wrote to me:
It was a constant struggle
He joined the Army because he really had no other option
His grandparents wanted to help him
But he didn’t want to risk wasting any of their money
Or long-term security
He wrote to me:
He never wanted me to face what he did
He wrote to me:
That to his “pack rat list” he added:
One
A safe and secure home
Two
A safe car you are not ashamed to drive
Three
A means to get a college education
Without going so far into debt with loans
That you have to question its value
He wrote to me:
Go to college for a reason, not just to “be there”
It took him a long time to figure that out
He would advise anyone to wait to go
Until they are ready to be serious
He wrote to me:
By thirty, you should have
One
One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to
And one who reminds you of how far you’ve come
Two
A decent piece of furniture
Not previously owned by anyone else in your family
Three
Something perfect to wear
If the employer or man of your dreams
Wants to see you in an hour
Four
A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella
You’re not ashamed to be seen carrying
Five
A youth you’re content to move beyond
Six
A past juicy enough
That you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age
Seven
The realization that you are actually going to have an old age
And some money set aside to help fund it
Eight
An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account
All of which nobody has access to but you
Nine
A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded
Ten
One friend who always makes you laugh
And one who lets you cry
Eleven
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill,
And a black lace bra
Twelve
Something ridiculously expensive
That you bought for yourself
Just because you deserve it
Thirteen
The belief that you deserve it
Fourteen
A skin-care regimen,
An exercise routine,
And a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life
That don’t get better after thirty
Fifteen
A solid start on a satisfying career,
A satisfying relationship,
And all those other facets of life that do get better
He wrote to me:
My mom and he were
And would always be
Very proud to be my parents
But they had wanted to make my life a fairy tale
And that wasn’t really doing me a favor
He wrote to me:
Life is not a fairy tale
It is a tremendous challenge
And all any of us can hope to do
Is make our life look easy to other people
He wrote to me:
That I would make some poor choices sometimes
That everybody does
That we are human
He wrote to me:
Every generation says the same thing to the next
But the world is a much more complicated place
Than it was when he was my age
But he promised me this:
The choices I would make over the next five years
Would lay the groundwork for the life I lived twenty years later
He assured me:
Every dream he had for the future
Was connected to my success, security, and well-being
He wrote to me:
It’s easy to love you, Rachel
We always will
Love, Dad
Biography
Rachel Paige Moore is a current undergraduate in the department of English at Virginia Tech. Her poems published in this edition were inspired by her father, whom she loves and dearly misses.
Rachel Paige Moore is a current undergraduate in the department of English at Virginia Tech. Her poems published in this edition were inspired by her father, whom she loves and dearly misses.