Coffee for Papi


Papi was a cowboy.

It has been a while since my dad rode horses or wrangled cattle, but he still dreams of a small cabin in the countryside where beast and man can feel at home. I love the look on Papi’s face when he tells stories about those days…

On Father’s Day, he told my Piano Man one of my favorite Papi stories. “My little girl was always fierce,” he said. “When she was still in diapers, her mom would send her to bring me coffee. Cold coffee in a huge aluminum mug. She treaded through grass taller than her, and fought anyone who tried to take the coffee away. I mean she fought with tooth and nail. Biting, scratching and screaming like an imp. The coffee would be all over her belly by the time she got to me. I pretended to drink from the empty mug. And she would grin, still yelling nonsense at anyone who teased her.”

That memory continues to make me grin like a happy idiot. Papi does that to me. He is one of my weaknesses (I can’t say no to my dad) and my biggest strength (Papi has always made me feel like I can do anything). Like any human child, I’ve done things that upset him, but Papi has never turned his back on me. He wasn’t thrilled when I left college to join the Marine Corps, but he supported my decision. The day a family member (who was extremely important to him) treated me badly, he left that person behind and chose me.

The latest trial was my little brother’s funeral. The general chaos… The unwanted opinions… The criticism coming from people (relatives and strangers) who felt that I wasn’t handling things the way they ought to be handed. When I was half-losing my mind, worried that all the mess was going to affect Papi, he told me, “Forget about them. Let them talk until their tongues fall out. We are his family here. You, me and [your big brother]. I don’t know how to do what needs to be done, and your [big brother] has a soft heart… I trust you to do the right thing.” That meant the world to me. It still does.

Last Monday, he told me, “Your [Piano] man has a big heart, a really good heart. I like how he looks at you. The way he makes you laugh.” That is the kind of person Papi is. A gentle soul, a giving heart, a face that needs no words to say: My little girl can do anything she puts her mind to. I’ve always believed him, and worked hard to keep his beliefs true. His trust has been the ever-flowing magic that empowers my endeavors. I’m a lucky Witch, and an even luckier daughter.    
the Little Princess drawing, while my niece watches Papi through the window
Papi waiting for my Piano Man to bring him a cup of coffee 
life is good… ;-)

 

36 comments:

  1. I wish I had a father that was half as good. I did not. Mine didn't see fit to stick around. But I did grow up with horses, and they always bring a special kind of comfort to me.

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    1. Sometimes, the best thing they do is walk out of our lives. I know that sounds cruel, but I've seen many parents stick around just because they don't want to deal with what people might say, and they end up damaging children in ways they'd have never been able to do with they'd have just taken their worthless behind out of the picture.

      Horses are amazing animals. Something wonderful happens to a soul that has the pleasure of staring into those huge liquid eyes ;-)

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  2. Once again.. another beautiful post about your father. Papi.. sounds so sweet! I will start calling my Dad same way. I call him Papa in Russian, or Papochka :) You are blessed to have such a parent! And Blessings to him, he is a great Dad!

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    1. I don't write enough about him. I always want to, but I'm afraid of becoming that person who annoys everyone by constantly showing her baby's pictures or her dog's pictures lol

      I've never called Papi anything else. It is common for grown children to start calling their father Papá, but he'll always be my Papi, growing up be damned ;-D

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    2. Feh....annoy by telling Papi stories? Let those who are annoyed find another blog to read, then!

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    3. I read few such blogs, but this is person's real attachments,memories, moments... you shall write more about him. We shall remember our parents, and I feel that by writing about them, we realize few things every time.we value our childhood more, and our parents' care too.:)

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    4. PetoskyStone - I'll write on ;-D

      Hindustanka - I was having that conversation with my big brother. He thinks that sometimes memories should stay in the past. I disagree. Forgetting the things we've done, where we come from is a sure way of making the same stupid mistakes or of forgetting the best things in life.

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  3. Your Father sounds amazing, cherish him!!! I miss mine so much he's been gone 8 years now.

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    1. Sometimes I don't cherish him as much as I should. When I call him tonight, I'll tell him that you said I should up my cherishing. Maybe I'll take him to a Yankees game; that would sure make him feel all kinds of appreciated ;-D

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  4. That is beautiful :)

    Also, I see where you got your mad storytelling skills from!

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    1. Papi inspires beautiful things. He is magical like that ;-)

      You know what? My mom was always the best storyteller. When I was very young, my big brother and I used to sit on the floor as she told a story. She would tell the tale and we would act out the scenes. My big brother was the best as making all the sounds. Those were good days... then she stopped telling stories. Thank goodness for Papi. He has always been willing to pick up all the extra slack.

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    2. Why did the stories stop?

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  5. It's good to have all the people you love in one place...

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    1. It is, indeed. Especially if you can get them to drink a glass of wine (or three) and then just let them talk ;-D

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  6. Yes...very good! What treasured memories...keeps one strong!!
    Hugs
    SueAnn

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    1. They sure do lend us strength, and remind us where we come from... and what we are capable of ;-)

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  7. Such wonderful memories, and a wonderful father :)

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    1. He is a jewel... trapped in a New York taxi driver's rough body lol

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  8. It's nice to know that Papi always has your back! Long may he drink cold coffee!

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    1. It has been my most powerful weapon over the years. Hear, hear! on the cold coffee bit ;-)

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  9. Reading what you write about your Papi, brings closer the memories of my own father, thanks Magaly.

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    1. And you saying so, my dear Eliora, makes me a very happy writer, child, and friend ;-)

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  10. you are so lucky to have such a loving and supportive dad.

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    1. I tell myself those words every day. And then I tell him ;-)

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  11. I agree with all who have said that you both are fortunate ones. I wish I had even one good memory of my father. But instead I will rejoice in your telling of yours....please share more. He is a joy in your life and therefore will enrich ours. Don't hesitate to tell of what brings you happiness......I'd watch all your vacation photos, dog picture and most certainly stories of people you love. Share because you want to not because you think others will appreciate or approve......we love you. Oma Lida

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    1. We are fortunate, aren't we?

      I don't keep myself from sharing certain things because I fear others might not approve--you know me better than that--but I feel (no, I know) that I'm a bit selfish, some of the stuff I want to keep for me, me, me... Also, I think that too much of a good thing over and over might not only get others tired and desensitized but even myself. And that, I rather not have.

      But no worries, when the happiness that is always within becomes a force that can barely be contained, I'll share again. And you and everyone will get glimpses of the best of it ;-)

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  12. I like your Papi, he's got a great heart. I really loved the coffee story Magaly - it soumds so much like something you would do - or something the little Magaly would do!! Fierce is a good word. :) I'm so happy that life is good for you right now. Surrounded by love!!

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    1. I was a wild child, indeed (I still am lol). You know, one of these days I must sit and write some of my growing up stories. So many of them make me grin, laugh... some make a bit sad, but they are good, too. There is one about a sack of sugar, one about a poor old man who was un-blessed with the task of babysitting me and my cousin, one about my brother, a bird and me left in the woods... I'm already grinning ;-D

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  13. He sounds like a fantastic man Mags, and it doesn't surprise me at all. The apple didn't fall far Dearie.

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    1. He is the best one, Rue. He reminds me so much of my Piano Man... Creepy, but true. Their hearts are so similar that sometimes I just shake my head.

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  14. Sniffle Sniffle. What a sweet, loving, amazing Papi you have. No wonder his daughter turned out so well. That coffee story is beautiful. What I want to know is who tried to take away the coffee?

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    1. Some sniffles are just yummy, so sniff away.

      I might have to write a coffee mystery in the days to come ;-D

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  15. What a beautiful and special man! You are both so fortunate to have each other! Big Hugs and lots of love to Papi ;o) I love the coffee story ;o)

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    1. He is, Stacy. And I think he knows it most of the time. I don't let him forget ;-)

      I'll give him your hugs!

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    1. My daddy has that effect on people ;-)

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