Growing up, I had the only dad that could
sew circles around all my friends’ moms.
Anytime I needed something fixed,
I would put it in front of the sewing machine.
He’d put on his big reading glasses, sit down,
and work his tree-trunk hands across
whatever I had ruined this time.
He’d fix holes in my blankets.
He’d re-stuff my favorite stuffed animals.
He’d fix the frayed cuffs of my jeans.
Anytime I had loved something
a little too hard, he’d be there
to make it just like new again.

But, at some point stuffed animals and blankets
turned into floral dresses and mini-skirts
and the pile of clothes in front of the sewing machine
stacked up way too high.
Our house was bursting at the seams,
and my dad couldn’t fix all the holes
because they stopped being
made from loving too hard.
I was just playing with shears,
and then waiting for someone to
sew us back together.

Today, I brought him a broken zipper.
Let’s just bring this one to the tailor,
He said.