Telling Time

Dad’s bowling league was on every Tuesday night.

One night he asked me if I wanted to go.

I didn’t tell him that I had homework.

I was too excited about the chance

to bowl a few frames after the league finished.

 

As we traveled to the bowling alley,

I was drinking a Yoo Hoo

and life was good.

On that night, I bowled my first strike!

I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Mom.

Naturally, she was excited

until she discovered

my homework was not finished.

 

Dad chimed in by asking me the time;

I told him I didn’t know.

He questioned me further

and commanded me

to stay seated on a stool

until I told him the time.

 

I just stared down

at the hands of my dad’s watch

resting in my hands.

It looked hopeless.

I finally ran out of that

which I could not tell

and was finally sent to bed

with a reprimand.

 

My first strike seemed

so meaningless now.

By the following week,

time had washed away some of the hurt.

I rushed to inform my dad

when he came home from work

that I knew how to tell the time!

That was more exciting to me

than knocking ten pins down!

My timing could not have been better.

With homework completed,

time was on my side

as we headed to the alley again

with another Yoo Hoo in hand!