PHOTO PROVIDED Footprints are shown worn into the green porch carpet by Debbie Confer’s father.

(Editor’s Note: The Express is sharing this submission from a local reader and the memories of her late father.)

By DEBBIE CONFER

Special to The Express

As I look on the floor in front of that old porch swing, I reflect on the footprints worn into the carpet. Those worn through prints with raveled edges reflect years and years of a shoe pushing off the floor to make that old swing move.

And I wonder to myself about the thoughts, ideas, reflections, and mostly, the memories that the worn carpet endured. Of the concerns, encouragement, advice and conversations that arose as the wear of the carpet became thinner.

My thoughts turn to the joy, the heartache and the melancholy, as each push of the swing tears yet another thread. But then I know that each thread was a foundation of the years of loving life and enduring all that life poses.

And then I see the man that shaped those remarkable footprints in that old carpet. A man that sits on that swing every day, enjoying the birds fluttering about from tree branch to tree branch. Taking his time to hang suet and carefully hung feeders of seed for those beautiful birds. Swinging, losing more thread from the tattered carpet, as he watches the chipmunks scamper about, collecting the peanuts he had thrown out for them.

Swinging, pushing even deeper into those worn prints of that carpet, as he finishes feeding the kittens, strays that have found their way from the elements of the outdoors to his front porch. Quietly observing the deer that came to the apple trees in front of his home for a wary feast of apples.

A man that grows hardy vegetables, tilling the ground, planting the small plants, harvesting a ripe crop of tomatoes, cabbage, peppers and more. He swings tirelessly, further embedding those footprints, making even more of a dent in that old rug, as he appreciates the wonder at the growth of his labors.

I find myself prideful of his generosity as he gifts friends, family and neighbors the fruit of his passion for husbandry of gardening.

I marvel at his endurance and tenacity for life. He never gives into the pain of personal health, the loss of loved ones or the hardship life sometimes presents. I am impressed at the knowledge he shares, of memories, of family history and of material upkeep.

I am so very, very proud of the man that wore that carpet thin, of the footprints so very evident of a man that is so courageous, loving and amazing.

I love, with all my heart, that man who named me the day I became his daughter, who guided me through life and who always loves me.

This man I proudly call my dad!