We stood in the field that together we’d cleared

With sweat and muscle and brawn;

Dad’s face was sober, weathered and tanned,

I listened as they talked on.

"My son, - well, he’s crippled, Henry, - you know;

And I should have kept this land;

I was offered enough to pay off his place -

I should help him all that I can."

I was just twenty, and I looked at Dad;

He was drawin’ with his foot in the sand;

I remembered the sweat and the toil it took

To clear the brush off of that land.

Dad’s shoes were worn - the sole was loose -

Seven kids waitin’ at home;

Still he debated and gave me that day

A gift that I’ll always own.

I felt Dad’s eyes on my fit body then -

It was lean, but strong and sure,

No crippled legs on his sturdy son -

No such pain to endure.

Though poor and in need still we were blest...

Dad wrestled with right, need, and wrong...

The land he had bought for half the price -

And he’d labored hard dawn after dawn.

"Meet me at nine in front of the bank,"

Dad said in a husky voice.

"We’ll tear up the papers and you will be free

To sell it and help your boy."

All the way home we said not a word -

Oh, Dad would have bought it again;

But he barely arranged the first price asked -

...Times were hard back then.

I’ve wondered oft times through the rest of my life

How many would have made the same choice?

His unselfish act was example to me.

Oft times it’s made my heart rejoice;

For the memory plays the strings of my heart,

And it’s melody vibrates with beauty;

He left me a memory money can’t buy....

And he only deemed it his duty.

Joan Clifton Costner
Copyrighted. All rights reserved.

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