The first doctor doubted that he was a candidate for surgery, but then the surgeon told Dad the odds. There was a chance he would not make it through the operation, but a greater chance that he would not make it without surgery. Dad opted for surgery.
During the days that followed, it was as if I were once again waiting for my father’s return. My mind went back to childhood moments of anticipating the hour when Dad would come home. This time, though, it was a trip from which he may never come back. The days of waiting held moments of crystal-clear memory, like a portal to the past. The waiting also brought questions about the future.
Early one morning while driving to the hospital, a bright crescent moon came into view as I turned onto the highway. I was suddenly taken by its beauty and for one brief moment felt nothing but joy.
one small arc of light
shines from a thin crescent moon
like a door ajar
|Venus and the Crescent Moon by David Lee|
*For notes on writing haibun, see yesterday's post.
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