Forged Memories

I remember wrestling with my father. I don't think he so much wrestled as held me down playfully as I squirmed to escape. Often, my brother would be squirming alongside me-this added to the fun. The both of us turned about as our father kept us happily captive, his strength always softened to our needs, though rough enough that our boys' exuberance was always spent up joyously. I remember getting older too, and stronger day by day. I remember being locked in my dad's playful grasp and sensing I could finally break away. It filled me with gushing pride. I toyed with testing my new limits by pushing to find the smallest of dad's yields, only then pulling back and continuing in the joy of our tussle. It didn't dawn on me that my father simply wouldn't use all his strength and risk hurting us, or that our own strength was beginning to test the limits of safe play. As we continued to grow, the physical play faded away; my confidence did not. I miss those ransack moments of tangled close contact with my dad, though in someway I have always kept the feeling of my father's presence within me. Now later, and a father myself, the role is reversed. I still have my father to draw from and guide me, and Jacob has many years to go before his strength will test any of our limits. In the mean time, I cherish our chances to play and forge our own enduring memories.