The Hat Trick

As a kid sitting in the back seat as Dad pulls into the driveway of Robert Dicky's house off Highway 21 or South Coastal Highway depending on who you believe, a car full waits.

We're picking up David Dicky who's 7 or 8.

I'm a mature 12 or 13 sitting in the back seat beside my incredibly immature brother David who's 11 or 12.

Mom's in the front passenger seat holding our enfant and immature sister Angie who mostly cries demanding all attention be focused squarely on her.

It's a hot day and the windows are rolled down.

To keep us quiet Dad's changed the radio station to WSGA's Jerry Rogers and rock-n-roll, sacrificing his beloved country music, so David and I will shut up.

I'm trying to grow my hair over my ears which Dad absolutely hates so he and I are entering the struggling years.

When little David Dicky comes out to climb in the car with us, his father tells him, "I love you" and kisses him squarely on the lips.

Watching in the hot, airless car I'm appalled ... a father kissing his son on the lips is foreign to me.

Afterwards, I swear Mr. Dicky cries and David throws his arm around his Dad and ... in all my maturity ... I recognize love.

That was a long time ago.

I just finished talking to my 35 year old son who's now living in Huntsville, Alabama with his beautiful wife Terenca and wonderful daughters Ava and Nina.

Jeremy and I always enjoy each other ... and have been together through bad times too.

"I love you Son," I say with moist eyes as we hang up.

"I love you Dad," he rushes to say, "we'll text and talk over the weekend."

Hanging up, the long forgotten memory of Mr. Dicky kissing his son, and the ensuing battle to let him go ... comes back to me.

I know exactly how he felt.

I'm a blessed man.

My kids are doing okay and we're quick to say "I love you."

I have little girls who roll their eyes at me, rub my growing belly, ask me to take them to McDonalds or for advice and tell me they love me.

It reminds me of Mr. Dicky trying with everything in him to let his child go ... and it's a lot harder done than said.

But it's quite the miracle when ... in spite of time and distance ... you still feel it ... and say, "I love you " ... especially when the aftermath is a lingering happiness and appreciation ... and longing.

Sarah and I watched a great movie about a couple losing their children who're moving on to live their own lives.

That's the way life is.

But the Hat Trick is still loving each other once everyone's moved.