Dad's fountain

A little over a year ago, I took this photo of my dad and his wife Jackie in front of their fountain. This year we visited Jackie; Dad is gone, over two months now. It feels a little odd to go there and know he won't be there to say a hearty hello and hobble over to give me a hug and kiss.

He built this fountain stone by stone. He hauled every rock in the back of his old station wagon and lovingly crafted the rockery and fountain over the course of a year. The trees, just saplings when he planted them (also hauled in the back of the wagon) are now 20 and 30 feet high, creating a forest-like atmosphere in the back yard. The birds love it - and he loved watching the birds. I come by that naturally.

I wrote a song about 15 years ago after visiting my childhood home -not this one, I've never lived here, but some of the lyrics felt appropriate today:

The corner grocery store is now gone
and the trees have all grown tall
and I shake my head in wonder
how did this old house grow so small?

They say you can't go home again
years go by and places change
but walking down this old familiar street
in my heart I'm home again.