My Papa’s Hat
February is a hard month for my family, and even though it’s not February yet, I start thinking about Aunt Andrea and Jonathan. And along with that comes Papa, who passed away a little over a year and a half ago now.
I miss my Papa. He was such a big man. I feel guilty because I didn’t make it to his grave this Christmas, or on his birthday in August. And I know it doesn’t matter because he’s not there, but it matters to me for some reason. I wish I could call him and tell him how I’m doing. Or have a dream about him or something. In my last dream he looked the same as he does in one of the pictures of him in his Air Force uniform. He was young, and he didn’t speak. I got to hug him and tell him I loved him, and then he was gone.
Over the weekend my aunt and uncle found this hat that belonged to him. I guess that they called him Slim, but those outlines are symbols of bombs that they dropped during his flight missions during WWII. Every time he dropped a bomb he colored the outline in and dated it.
I wish he had written in the book that I bought him. I know that he wishes he did too. I want all the stories recorded, so no one forgets them. It won’t be too long now before the Arnold history will be lost. I think I might order a book for Uncle Charlie.