Father
I'll admit it. I'm a daddy's girl. I am unabashedly, unashamedly, 100% my father's daughter. Since it's father's day, I've been thinking about what that means to me.
My father is young. Younger than most of my friends' dads ever were. What this means, is that to some extent, we grew up together. When I look back on my childhood, I have memories of sitting in dad's lap, steering the green(read:avocado) Volkswagen Beetle we had, while he worked the pedals. I remember trips to the park with my new walkie talkies(how DID we survive before cell phones?). I remember sleeping in the backseat while my mom drove him in the dark to the base, so he could spend several months on a submarine. I remember his fingers working magic on his Gibson six string acoustic, his vocal cords not quite so magical(sorry dad!). He taught me how to ride a bike. I walk like he does. I look like him. Several of my children have very distinctive features of his. I am tempered like him, much to my mother's chagrin. His is the approval I am always seeking, the yardstick by which all other men are measured.
Now, don't get me wrong. There are certain topics we skirt around, due to a mutual hotheadedness and strength of opinion. It's an unspoken agreement that we just simply cannot agree on politics, or any issue really, that has any connection, no matter how remote, to politics.
But, politics notwithstanding, the older I get, the easier our rapport gets. However, make no mistake, no matter how old I get, I will still always be the little girl, seeking daddy's acceptance, and he'll always be, my daddy. Which is kinda funny, since I'm only 19 years younger than him, so we'll actually be senior citizens together .
Today was the official day to honor our fathers, but I hope my father knows, that I wake up every day, hoping to honor mine. It's the least that he deserves.
My father is young. Younger than most of my friends' dads ever were. What this means, is that to some extent, we grew up together. When I look back on my childhood, I have memories of sitting in dad's lap, steering the green(read:avocado) Volkswagen Beetle we had, while he worked the pedals. I remember trips to the park with my new walkie talkies(how DID we survive before cell phones?). I remember sleeping in the backseat while my mom drove him in the dark to the base, so he could spend several months on a submarine. I remember his fingers working magic on his Gibson six string acoustic, his vocal cords not quite so magical(sorry dad!). He taught me how to ride a bike. I walk like he does. I look like him. Several of my children have very distinctive features of his. I am tempered like him, much to my mother's chagrin. His is the approval I am always seeking, the yardstick by which all other men are measured.
Now, don't get me wrong. There are certain topics we skirt around, due to a mutual hotheadedness and strength of opinion. It's an unspoken agreement that we just simply cannot agree on politics, or any issue really, that has any connection, no matter how remote, to politics.
But, politics notwithstanding, the older I get, the easier our rapport gets. However, make no mistake, no matter how old I get, I will still always be the little girl, seeking daddy's acceptance, and he'll always be, my daddy. Which is kinda funny, since I'm only 19 years younger than him, so we'll actually be senior citizens together .
Today was the official day to honor our fathers, but I hope my father knows, that I wake up every day, hoping to honor mine. It's the least that he deserves.
