Wrong Number

I am suprised at how little, inconsequential events can take us to places long dormant in our minds. This "wrong number" was one of them. Thank you, small child, whoever you are.

I got a little gift today; don’t know from where it came
My cell phone rang and on the line a small voice, anxious to proclaim
“Dad?” he asked a bit surprised
To hear my sound, unrecognized

A small boy, I think, from just that word though I don’t know for sure
A little girl it could have been but “Dad” is what I heard.
The precious thing from one so small; to hear that name once more
In such an eager, love filled way; to cause my heart to soar

The instant swept the years aside. Just where am I? And when?
Am I yet there? A child this age? The years a dream have been?
The memories flashed all through my mind of Steve and Jill and Dan
Of playing catch and playing games and summers in the sand

They flooded back, as fast as light, these visions of my love
Their gap-toothed grins and small warm hands
True gifts lent from above

Then I returned to here and now to answer his small plea
To gently say the dad he’d called was someone else, not me

And then he knew, I wasn’t his but just some other dad
Before he went, he just said, “Bye” - and left me feeling glad
And grateful to that little one, mistaken though he’d been
For he gave to me the greatest gift of memories so long not seen. ©