Dear Dad

circa 1948

Dear Dad,

My earliest memory of you was when I was about three.

You'd roll and wrestle with us on the floor. I loved that.

You cut the grass on Saturdays and I loved the smell.

On Fridays, as you drove into the neighborhood,

I'd be waiting for you on a corner near our house.

You loved that, you told me.

When we moved from Tennessee to Michigan,

the family flew. But you drove with my kitty. You hated cats.

You showed us new places: Lake Superior, Cape Cod,

Mystic Seaport, Maine, the Skyline Drive and Smoky Mountains.

Every summer you took me to Girl Scout camp,

though you didn't care for camping.

When you were light-hearted and funny at the dinner table

is when I loved you most.

You worked hard to provide for our family of six,

and I think it sapped some of the fun out of your life.

I don't think we are very similar,

but God gave us each other for special reasons

and in that I can find peace.

I love you, Dad.

Happy Father's Day.