Unfortunately, the husband and I had to spend Valentine’s Day apart this year. Nevertheless, he still managed to spoil me from afar with chocolates and TWO bouquets. And knowing his Texas girl is a fanatic for her home state, he even managed to track down a Lone-Star Living bouquet:
True to disorganized form, I wasn’t as good at getting a timely gift into his hands. But for my husband, I offer this Sara Groves song (one of my favorites):
Baby can you help me get undone The party is over and their hearts were won There’s a zipper in the back But I can’t reach it on my own And I am dying to get out of this so
Baby will you help me get undone
I don’t even remember how I got this on I started out pretending Now I don’t recognize myself And I could use a little help
You have no pretenses All your walls are fences I can see right through You have no two faces You know where our place is and that’s why I need you Oh baby
Baby will you help me get undone I don’t even remember how I got this on I started out pretending Now I don’t recognize myself And I could use a little help
Cause I started out pretending Now I don’t recognize myself And I could use a little help Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby Will you help me get undone
On this Father’s Day, I think (unsurprisingly) about my dad, who’s really always been my hero. As a little girl I looked up to him completely… and honestly, none of that’s changed now that I’m a girl all grown up, and moved (at times very, very far) away from home.
My dad has given me many things. A sense of safety and security in the loving family he helped build. A drive to learn, a strong work ethic. A penchant for adventure that’s stood me in good stead in my life married to a member of the U.S. Foreign Service. A love of the outdoor world that is so deeply rooted in me. My passion for all things water-related, that, as a surfer, swimmer, and ocean-enthusiast, I find to be at the very core of who I am as a person.
These mark but a few of the gifts my father has bequeathed me. But perhaps the one that is easiest to take for granted is the support he’s provided me as a writer. Many parents, I think, would’ve been tempted to herd me (out of love, of course) toward a more stable career. Instead, my dad listened to my ideas, read and edited my early (terrible) drafts, paid for writers’ conferences and even traveled with me to attend them. He’s believed in my dream even when I didn’t. And for this writer, there aren’t words enough to say thank you.
Like what you’ve read? Follow my blog via email or WordPress (on the sidebar), or shoot me an email (using the footer).