when I think about Dad
I think of traveling
cars, ships and airplanes

I wonder how far he traveled in his life?

during my childhood he worked a bit away
drove each morning in the company car
a 25 minute ride from the house in town
seemed very far

work took him around the world
we received postcards with illegible greetings
from Prague and Paris
signed “Pa”

when I started working
(at a travel agency, no less)
we sent short messages
between Sweden and Somalia
by a large machine
– one of those where you stamped out
the entire message on a strip
so it would go fast
once the international phone line
was open

later he started sailing
and made his spare time, too
into an endless journey
filled with nature
and long hours
of just being present
– I think he was happiest there

when we grew up
it was business travel
and work abroad for chunks of time

when he retired
he lived in France most of the year
and the archipelago
– on the sailboat –
during summers

we were always welcome
to visit
to sail along

so I got to know my father again
after divorce and moving had set us apart
many years of recurring sailing trips
a few days at a time
shared living
in all simplicity

as a big bonus, I got to also know Ingrid
during those long days at sea
or sometimes rained-in and staying back
at a harbor somewhere

later in life, it was I who moved far away
and we kept in touch via fax, then email
and later Skype

our Saturday check-ins
before breakfast for me
dinner for them

Dad and Ingrid
came to visit me
celebrated some successes
a big birthday
we drove together
down the coast

***

when I think of you Dad
I think of traveling
cars, ships and airplanes

to visit became the norm
a way to be together
you traveled
I traveled
plane, train, boat, bus

the need to get there
be there on location
in the same room
so much greater than all kinds of differences
you ate meat and I chickpeas
– never mattered much

so of course, Dad
you had to know
that I came for one more visit
before you could let go
and embark on the endless journey
that comes for us all
in the end

your last word to me
as I arrived
your hand reaching out
from a frail body
your one functioning eye
catching mine
your voice loud and clear
“Welcome!”

Maja Bengtson, 2017