My Father

A description of my dad one night.

I watch my father stand straight by the fireplace, looking down at the slim, black phone he held in his palm. By the flames, he stands perfectly still and straight. No movement other than the occasional stroke and flick of his thumb across the glass screen was executed by his limbs. He was so still.

Looking at him so still made me irritated. I want to scream in annoyance at him. This is why mother is annoyed with you! I want to shout. All you do is look at that phone! I don't even look at my phone that much!

But, I keep my mouth shut. I don't allow myself to shout, scream, or speak, let alone make a sound. I just stare, stare hard into his back. I will him with my eyes to put the damned device down and go inside the bedroom. I stare at him hard.

Eventually he does. He says a goodnight to me outside the walls of my book, and walks through the white door. I sigh. Now, I'm not so irritated.

Author's Note

Please excuse the shortness of the piece. I promise to write longer ones in the future!

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

The title of your work attracted me as I've written a poem entitled, "My Father." So, naturally, I was curious as to where your poem would take me. Well, it certainly did not lead down the same winding path as my poem.

I do not mind the shortness of the piece. Sometimes, less is more. To be honest, the succinctness of the story actually lends to its impact. It's almost as if you slammed that door behind his back. I can feel your anger and your pent up frustration. I know others who are much the same as your father, so I completely understand your sentiments.

People are so busy looking at their phones that they neglect the ones who are standing right before them.

Let your frustration be your guide ... open your heart and express your feelings to your father. One can hardly fail to notice the tears of the heart when you lay them at his feet.

Linda Marie

[Alice]

Thank you for your review!

What a coincidence. I'll be sure to read your poem to see where we diverged. It's a little funny how that came to be.

The reason I didn't write very much was that I couldn't find anything else to say. Even after editing, I found that its "natural stoppage", as my English teacher would say, was where I ended it. I'm glad it brought out the effect for you.

And thank you. I'll do my best on that part. I don't find it very easy to express my feelings, even to my own family, so I just let it be. But I'll do my best on it.

Thank you again!