When Bobbyanne, Scott and I were little kids, before dinner we would run to the corner of our street and wait for my dad to come home from work. In fact, this is the very corner where we waited for him--brought to you by the technological marvel that is vpike. My dad would stop and pick us up, and then he'd drive us home--four houses away. 
The first thing we said when we jumped in the car was, "What'd you bring us?" because my dad often picked up candy bars on the way home. Whenever I think about our Wayside house, this is the thing I remember first. I don't think we cared so much about the candy, but I knew our dad must adore us because he was always thinking about how he could make us happy.It worked both ways, too. A couple of months ago I sent GP the link to our Wayside house on vpike, and in his reply he said he could remember seeing those "beautiful kids sitting on the curb" waiting for him to come home from work.
My dad wasn't big on materialism, so it's curious that candy, along with waiting on the curb for him, would stand out for me as a symbol of his love. I figure it isn't the candy that's important, it's what the candy says about how much you're loved.
My dad is the lovingest dad, ever. I'm pretty lucky.
That wonderful story is so like the Bob K that I've come to know and love over the last 16 years. We are both lucky for having the Dads we had (tho mine could have been a bit easier on me!).
ReplyDeleteAww, way to make me cry at work! Two excellent posts. We're lucky to have a plethora of loving parents and grandparents, and I think Jody's comment hit it spot on: every year that goes by, I learn more about my extended family and, as a result, love and appreciate them more and more. I love you momly!
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