In my twenties, searching through a dusty attic,
I found an old coat.
It was a stylish long coat.
With that, and a beret, I made my way,
through many a wild night.
I was still wearing that coat the fall I met my wife.

When I asked,
I was told it was my uncle’s coat.
Long discarded years ago,
as he formed a family,
and moved from being a young man to a husband and father.

My uncle seemed to always have a smile.
He was so full of wit and wisdom and life.
We thought of him as the great Adventurer,
our own living version of Davy Crocket.

My brothers and sisters recall many stories of my uncle.
What I recall is how he made my mother, his sister, smile;
how he obviously still loved and cherished his wife;
how he loved his children, my cousins.
What I recall is how he showed that love,
often with affection and that smile.
My sisters recall his dog.

When it was my turn to move from boyhood to husband and father,
that coat ended up in my attic.
Like my uncle my life turned to more serious things.
Time and days passing,
as my own children grew and then spread their wings.

The fall is ending and the winter snows are not that far away.
My Aunt and I talked.
My uncle has enjoyed his last fall.
Somewhere now.
my uncle is on his next journey,
I’m sure he’s smiling.
I’m sure he has a story to tell.
I’m sure he’s carrying a fishing pole.
I’m sure he’s pausing, looking for his Mary Jo.
I’m sure he’s whistling for that dog.

Now that winter is around the corner,
Maybe its time to take down that coat from the attic.
Brush it off, and remember.