The iron is hot!

Let me tell ya a story.  I was about to move. It was time to get the U-Haul, pack up and head to the new city. City? I was a small town boy. At twenty something, I had just learned to wash my own clothes.  Ironing was important too, back then.  We did not have the new materials that are guaranteed wrinkle-free.

I went to do some errands on packing day, time spent with the fiancé.  The day was just weeks away.  We had much to do before I went to live two and half hours away. It was an eternity from each other.

I got home to daddy.  He was livid.  He had taken time off, packed for hours and expected me.  The truck was loaded.  The sun was setting.  We had a short stunted conversation; it seemed to take hours to get through it. He asked where I'd been, what I had done, why was I not there to help.  I stumbled through giving reasons only to sound like excuses.  He'd cut me off; I'd try again.  I felt guilty; yes, guilty as charged.

Then out of the blue, the tempo changed in a flash. Daddy asked me about the iron.  The iron? Yes, your mama said you left it on the other day when going to your follow up interview and completing paperwork. Oh, I guess I might have? You did! Well, I am sorry. That is not good enough; you need to be careful.  You need to watch what you are doing; be responsible.  What will you do when you are off on your own? Will you leave the iron on?

Then, in a defensive and smooth, sly way (so I thought at twenty-something) I said: well, I will buy one for myself soon and I will get one with automatic shut-off.  I will not need to worry about it and be fine.

It got very quiet. Then, my heart sank. I looked into my daddy's eyes and he was upset. I did not understand at the time, dear daughter, but years later I knew.  I realized it was nothing to do with packing or safety when ironing; my daddy knew it was my last night there to stay at his house, with his family, one unit, protected and together, me as his child in his care.

I wish I'd had the wisdom to observe then or acknowledge that moment later in time once it dawned on me what happened. My daddy, as strong and great as he was, worried about me and whether or not I was ready.  Had he done all he could and should do to get me ready? Would we succeed?

A conversation is not always as it seems; at times it is not all about you. You need to listen with your heart too and continue to go back to the same conversation to see it through the other's eyes and your own at a more mature time in your life.