PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Ever since I can recall, my dad’s collection of tigers – toys, teas, pencils, stuffed animals, and all kinds of objects that are a tiger or have one on it, has grown exponentially. I was an only child for far too long, it even got to the point where I adopted my father’s tiger stool as my little brother. My father noticed I had gotten fonder of his collection, therefore he adopted new “brothers and sisters” for me to spend my time with. My new “family” consisted of a tiger hat, a hobby tiger that I could ride, a tiger pillow, a stuffed tiger and a small dancing tiger. The iconic tigers were everywhere: on the shelves, on the floor, on the walls, over the T.V., some were even hanging from the roof. It was impossible to enter the room where they all were and not feel as if they were watching you, feeling the need to be extra cautious with your actions as if they could pounce at you if you dared to make the wrong move. The fear just lasted a few seconds, since the thought of my dad comforted me afterwards. They became my guardians, when my dad wasn’t home they would be the ones looking after me, or this is what he once said. A new one would arrive every few weeks, received with the same excitement as the ones who came before. The smile glued on my dad’s face while placing new members wherever they fit will be impregnated on my mind forever. He takes so much pride in them, showing them off whenever he has the chance. A few years ago, when we moved to a new house, it was inevitable to notice the pain lingering in his eyes as he stored all his precious tigers into boxes. It was as if each one of them was a piece of him, but I assure you he was over reacting. His excitement returned when he spent his days placing each member of the collection strategically on the shelves, on the floor, on the counters, hanging from the roof, all over again. I began to think about their meaning while I observed them one day. Analyzing all their styles, shapes and sizes, I thought about how long ago he had bought many of them. It came to me that they were all a reminder of his journey called life; where he had been and what he had done. To him, those tigers were not just random material possessions. They were memories, expressed in a unique way. They will forever mean his presence to me, no matter where life decides to take him, just like they always have.