The Green Eyed Dragon

"Once upon a time lived a Fair Princess
Most beautiful and charming;
Her Father, the King, was a wicked old thing,
With manners most alarming."


The last time I came to Preston, ID was when my dad died.

Seemingly small details of that lugubrious farewell are permanently embedded in my mind: the peaceful, but mischievous smile on his face, the unexpected objects placed with him in the coffin, the listing of him on the program of his own funeral. More than a year has past since then. Strange, really, that I've been gone for such a stretch; I live only 90 miles South of here. Nonetheless, it feels good to finally come home.

"And always on the front door mat,
A most ferocious Dragon sat,
It made such an awful shrieking noise
So all you little girls and boys...
Beware, take care,
Of the Green-eyed dragon with the 13 tails,
He'll feed,
With greed
On little boys, puppy dogs and big fat snails."

His chair, the out-of-place-blue one that lifted him up and pushed him outward, is still in the same place it was when he died. It was there that I wrapped blankets around his feet and rubbed his hands trying to produce warmth. (In years past, however, it was he who could never be cooled enough; my mother the opposite.) And, next to the chair on one of many books about his faith, sit his glasses, dusty, but apparently waiting for him to gingerly put them on his face.

"That Dragon went down to the kitchen one day
Where the Fair Princess was baking;
He ate, by mistake, some rich plum cake
Which the Fair Princess was making,
That homemade cake, he could not digest,
He moaned and he groaned, and at last went west -
And now his ghost, with bloodshot eyes
At midnight clanks his chains and cries..."

Interesting...the feelings I'm experiencing just sitting in his chair, looking at his things. I don't know exactly how to describe it.

"And hurry up the stairs,
And say your prayers,"

In fact, I'm sitting here conversing in my head with my ego because it's pushing me to write a long essay, a breathtakingly poetic tribute to my dad, yet, my heart is content just to sit here. Seems like he was here only yesterday and that he left so long ago, both at the same time. I think, if he walked in and sat down, I'd only say "I've missed you, Old Man."

"And duck your heads, your pretty curly heads..."

That's all I'm going to write today.

"Beneath the clothes, the clothes..."

I miss you, Dad.

"...the clothes."

Goodbye, Green Eyed Dragon.



*Note: The Green Eyed Dragon (Newman & Charles) was sung by my dad to his children and grandchildren for many years. I honor his loving heart and his desires to bring joy and laughter to those he loved.