The Obstacle Course

(Every father has a story like this one)

     When my daughter was just able to walk, I spent some of my happiest days taking her to nearby Washington Park, where we followed meandering paths through the carefully planted flower gardens. Some days, we walked the bicycle trails and the footpaths, our destination, a tiny playground by the water’s edge. I introduced her to the thrill of the swings, the fun of the slide and the dizziness of the merry-go-round. I watched with a parent’s pride as she mastered the physical prowess needed to enjoy these novelties of youth. I made up little tests for her to feel the enjoyment of combining her new skills. She laughed delightedly as she was assigned the task of walking the log borders around the playground, first forward, then backwards. She loved trying to hop over the little stream that puddled its way towards the lake, or swinging on a little gate that risked getting the occupant wet as it passed over a muddy rain basin. These first obstacle courses became the beginning of a playtime tradition.

      As my daughter grew, we changed the designs of our obstacle courses. On our driveway we used the big, colored chalks to draw lines to be followed on her little scooter, or broad jump lines, marking her laughing attempts to achieve the “Champion of Downing Street” title. When it snowed and filled our backyard, we used the snow shoveled from the driveway to make sledding hills, turns and jumps into a winter obstacle course. I can still hear my daughter yelling for her mom to watch as she zoomed down a little hill of snow to fly a few feet into a snow bank and spill over, laughing gleefully while our dog pranced happily beside her. My wife’s hot chocolate in our warm house was the usual, wonderful finish to those winter obstacle courses.

     Soon, my daughter learned the joys of the bicycle. Our obstacle courses got larger, ranging over whole subdivisions. We sniffed out every bike path and quiet road for miles. One of our favorite rides took us through two neighborhoods, across a schoolyard, around a city park and to the top of a hospital rooftop parking lot. We even found a rickety, little wooden bridge that led over a creek into the neighboring subdivision. I remember riding ahead, taking turns, threading through fence gates, around parking lot markers and, watching behind at my daughter’s determined little face as she followed, once again rising to the challenge of an obstacle course.

     When grade school started to claim part of my daughter’s days, I had to satisfy myself with just walking her to school. At the morning lineup we stood together watching the children gather amid the hubbub of schoolyard excitement. Somehow it became a morning ritual for me to design a small activity for the kids, bored with waiting for the doors to open. I made up a hopscotch game with the markings already on the pavement. I had them hopscotching sideways, backwards, together, singing, laughing, quickly, slowly and always ready to attempt whatever kooky idea I could come up with. It got to be so much fun for them that the kids would just line up when they saw my daughter and me coming.

     My daughter was just about to turn thirteen when I last designed an obstacle course for her. It was the year before she entered seventh grade. She was changing right before my very eyes and I watched it with a quiet sadness, like watching a wonderful summer come to an end. She never wanted to go to the library with me anymore. She didn’t want to ride bikes anymore. She started to spend more time in her room with the door closed, reading strange teen magazines and listening to weird music. She actually had her mom take her to the mall and buy a dress. She didn’t play tennis or shoot baskets after school. But she did want some rollerblades and since she’d earned them we got them for her. 

     She tried them out on our back patio. She slowly got the hang of them and finally was skating fairly well, back and forth across the cement, when lo and behold, she said something I thought she would never say to me again. “Make up an obstacle course, Dad.” My heart swelled that instant, bathing my spirit once again, in the light of those forgotten summer seasons. I set out the flower pots and chairs into a maze and marked the corners of the deck with lanes. I even had her jump a stack of rakes and brooms. My little girl. It was a day that my heart soared again with my child. It must always be so with fathers and mothers, because there is no love like that of parents. Perhaps, it is only the obstacles that change for our children.

     After that day, it was school work that became the new obstacle. She also had to become careful as she negotiated the social waters of adolescence. Sometimes, we would get home to some squeaky male voice on the answering machine with a message for my daughter. Suddenly it was my wife who had the answers to the woman-child obstacles that cropped up during that phase of her life. Now, I don’t have to design any more obstacle courses. I believe that there are enough obstacles already in place as she travels her life’s path. I just hope she remembers who is willing to come from the sidelines when things get tough. Until then, I wait patiently, my heart filled with love, until I am needed again, on the obstacle course.

The End

     I hope you have enjoyed my father’s day tribute, The Obstacle Course. There are other short stories available on my web site for free to enjoy. Also, check out the Blue series about a BBQ loving Pit Bull that always finds a way to get his partners, retirees Willie and J.D. out of whatever mess they find themselves in. To read my books you can go to https://www.amazon.com/Billy-Lord/e/B01CQY3O32. 

Happy reading,

Billy Lord