Today is my dad’s birthday. I find it funny how I seem to measure what “old” is in my mind based on the people I am close to. When I was young, I remember thinking my 21-year-old soccer coach was old, and wondered why he wasn’t married yet (!?) And 70 would have signified a very old man.
But my dad is not that to me. Actually, in my mind, he may be one of the few examples of where time seems to stand still. He does not seem any older than he was 20 years ago, at least, not to me. (kind of like how 40 used to seem old, but now that I approach that milestone myself, there is NO WAY that 40 is anywhere near old…)
There is something special about dad’s and their little girls. I contend that my dad has some of the best hugs in the world, and even now, as a grown woman living several provinces away, I still feel that his hugs could cure almost any ill.
Growing up, he was the type of dad who:
- always had energy to play, even after a long day at work
- had limitless patience
- would sing songs to us at bedtime (even better: with made-up lyrics to made-up tunes)
- made it to every soccer game or momentous occasion
- took us skiing, hiking, camping, canoeing (and definitely instilled in me my love of the outdoors)
- danced his own silly made-up dance with us (… the jigger-bum!)
- could kiss any bump or bruise and make it instantly better
He would always listen. And he was always there. I knew (and still do) that my dad would always be there for me, no matter what.
Today, moreso than usual, I wish that I could be in Nova Scotia so that I could be with my dad on his birthday. I wish Ethan and Audra could give him birthday hugs, and celebrate with all of our family. Instead, I will be grateful for skype. And for knowing that no matter how old I am, I will always be Daddy’s Girl.