the weatheradio

Dad's Weatheradio sat in the kitchen window. Sometimes if I woke up early enough I would find him in the kitchen listening to it. Any type of greeting I would attempt to offer was quickly silenced by a finger to the lips and a look that said, "You'd better be quiet or I'll miss the surf report." Knowing the importance of the surf report, I remained silent and settled for a hug in which I usually buried my face in his chest. I used to think the voice was a surfer by the bathrooms at Rincon telling the weatherman how the surf was. I later discovered that it was a computer giving information like swell direction, wave height, and water temperature. The antenna broke off once, but instead of buying a new radio, he stuck some pieces of metal in the hole where the antenna used to be and it sounded good as new. Sometimes I turn it on just to hear that voice. If I close my eyes I can feel my face in his chest and smell the warmth of the morning's silence.