Slacks

Retired twenty years, he still wore his overalls

still pottered in the garage

still had the stub of a pencil behind his ear

underneath the overalls he wore

not trousers

certainly not jeans

but ‘slacks’

and an Aran jumper

 

today he walked from the porch

in his overalls

to greet us, as he normally would

his arms wide, and waiting

for his granddaughter

before he was shocked to a stop

by my mother

her voice sharp and severe

 

he stood, arms out, crestfallen, in his garden

my daughter stood two yards away

unsure, worried without knowing why

he shook his head

he had forgotten

the only man in Ireland to forget

the virus

he walked back to the porch

 

I unloaded the car

lined a half dozen shopping bags outside the porch

took two steps back

watched my father and mother carry them

two at a time into the kitchen

the money tango began

I wouldn’t take it

they insisted

 

my mother held two fifty euro notes toward me

I reached through the empty space, took them

my fingers, just one inch from hers

remained untouched

as we drove away, I saw my father

straight mouthed, shoulders slumped

waving us off

safe from us

in his old navy overalls