He had just retired from a job he loved, a job he had been loyal to for nearly 40 years. His wife, Lois, had also retired and they were due to experience a cruise to Hawaii in a little over a week. He had received a generous amount of money when he retired and of course, his Social Security.
For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease with life; with the exception of one thing: his son, Jonah.
He felt as though his heart was sprained and would never heal all because of Jonah, the son he had held in his arms so carefully, amazed at how those little fists would dance until one fist made its mark; in his tiny mouth. He was enchanted by this precious life that resulted in the love he shared with his wife, Lois.
As the years flew by, Jonah seemed to take flight as well. Nothing seemed to make Jonah content, from the toys to the bicycles to the various cars he either wrecked or parked behind the garage, only moving them when his parents insisted. College became out of the question because of time wasted, according to Jonah. Jobs were short-lived, and careers were boring and useless in Jonah’s world.
This father and Lois agonized for many years and finally surrendered to the truth; Jonah was lost. Whatever visits he blessed them with were their gold, their treasure.
Then came Father’s Day, and he and Lois were planning on dining with his sister and her husband. They all agreed that dining in the late afternoon would be wise, since many families went to lunch as a Father’s Day celebratory event and the restaurant would be less crowded.
The somewhat old-age restaurant was a family staple for many years, with many family memories. Jonah was always with them, insisting on ordering for himself: pressure fried chicken and a root beer. At the age of 14, he simply stopped going. The tradition continued and every Father’s Day found them at the same place without one very significant participant: Jonah.
But this time, when the young gentleman stepped up to the table, a large gift bag in his hands, there were genuine gasps from the four seated as they looked at the man before them. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a shirt that still had the fold lines of clothing that is brand new.
Lois stood, her legs shaking, and hugged him tightly, gift bag and all. His aunt and uncle shook his hand and welcomed him home. Slowly, he moved toward his father, the gift bag held in front of him, as if it were a fragile and priceless treasure.
“Thank you, Jonah,” his father whispered. “Thank you and welcome, son.”
“Open it, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.”
He reached in, his hands searching through the tissue paper and feeling something soft and odd shaped. He was puzzled, and he gave Jonah a grin as he realized what he was touching, buried there in the dark green tissue paper. As he brought the item out of the bag his wife pushed back anxious tears. She reached for Jonah and hugged him with arms that had cradled him years ago.
“Your father gave you that gift shortly after you discovered the tale of Jonah and the whale,” she said.
Jonah nodded and turned to his father.
“I have a lot to share with you both and I am home to stay for as long as you allow me to. I even have a job right here in town. May I come home?”
Well, friends, I do not have to tell you how this yarn ends. Jonah remained at home until he earned enough money to find his own apartment, and that was not all he found. He married, bought a house close to his parents, and became a dad.
That whale sits on the top of the bookcase in Jason’s front room, where it has been for well over 30 years. It is now a faded blue and misshapen, but the power of love goes on forever.
Belinda Wilcox Hersey lives in Caribou with her husband, Kent. You may email her at belindahersy@gmail.com.
