Mera sometimes senti Dad

While growing up, my Dad wasn't around much since he was posted out a lot. I started writing letters to my father when I was 8 years old and the habit continued till the cyber bug bit me. (Ouch!)
He isn't much for writing letters but every once in a while, he's pen down a few words of wisdom (mostly his own) and send them across.

Today when going through my little box of treasures I came upon this:

I had just started my very first semester in law school (My first stint away from home (FREEDOM!!!)) and I received a letter from Dad. (Surprise surprise) Here a poem by Alice E Chase that he sent across along with the letter.

To My Grownup Child

My hands were busy through the day;

I didn't have much time to play

The little games you asked me to. 

I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook,

But when you'd bring your picture book

And ask me, please, to share your fun,

I'd say " A little later, child."

I'd tuck in all safe at night,

And hear your prayers, turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door,

I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past,

A little child grows up so fast,

No longer are they at your side,

Their precious secrets to confide,

The picture book are put away,

There are no children's games to play,

No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear,

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, no lie still,

The days are long and hard to fill,

I wish I might go back and do,

The little things you asked me to.

Now that I am a parent, it is easier for me to understand the depth of the poem better. I loved it when dad sent it to me and I ever since that day, I made a promise to myself that I have been trying hard to keep.

My dad doesn't say just how much he loves me as often as I'd like to have him say it. It's no rocket science to understand the emotions behind his concern for me. We argue every time we meet and fight at all silly things. That is his love for this brat he has.