We Don’t Want To Rewind Time

And why would we?

Baby Tre and my dad, “Big Mike.” From the family archives.

A lone, baby girl — your first, sheltered in your embrace. 
You loved her. You love her. Old photos are passed
down through the hands of a younger
baby girl. You love her, too.

How have our memories been floating 
around the family tree making 
their way through our bloodline?

I look at this photo, it moves me.
I am centered and sure of myself
and happy. I knew I was safe in
one of my favorite places — my father’s arms.

Does your youngest know this, too?
If only we could rewind time but 
why would we? What would that accomplish?

There is an overaged pain that 
sneaks up on me and reminds me 
of better days but life isn’t 
too keen on rekindling old flames.

I have lost my fire.

But I look at this lone, baby girl 
and I remember being loved. 
I remember using your arm 
as my personal swing.

I remember learning how to swim 
and being tickled until 
my toes cramped from nonstop laughter.

I remember you. I remember you.

And I count it as a blessing 
there are still memories to recall 
of happier days when I was 
a lone, baby girl leaning 
into safe arms learning how to love.


©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt

Father’s Day is fast approaching in the US, and I still can’t say some of the things I wish to say to my father without choking up but I can always tell him, “I love you,” because I do. And I always will. If you’re a father, may someone spill a little love down on you this coming weekend. Peace and blessings.


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

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