My Father's Blank
“What is it?” My father asked, hands groping in the air.
“You can’t tell?” I teased. “Put your hand here.” I gently guided his hands with my own. He’d grown curmudgeonly after Ma had passed but I was still his favorite daughter and able to bully him with love.
Together we stooped to trace the sleek underbelly, lined with soft scales that seemed almost like skin. The armor here was thin and warmer than the thick, plated ridges that covered the rest of the beast. We touched those too, but only briefly before moving on to the wings. They were folded back, the thin membranes collapsed together like a courtesans’ fan. Naturally we followed the wings to the thick knot of muscles that made up the shoulders. Ending at the beak-like snout, my father took his hand from mine to cup the bottom of the elongated head, caressing it gently. Thunderous purring roared from the serpentine neck.
Blind eyes cried tears. “It’s magnificent.”
“You mean she’s magnificent. I got her for you- so you won’t be alone anymore.”