It's Father's day today. I miss mine. Playing "guys", admitting I took the car or before I had my licence and him calling me Barney Oldfield, sailing, trimming the disco tree, playing video games, the Timex Sinclair, the Mac and "Welcome to Mario" tong game that always popped up even when he didn't start it, going to his school to hang out at football games, watching him lead the band in parades, going to the symphony to hear him play the oboe, sailing, the great Christmas light decoration war at the cottage, watching him help build a house, talking about gadgets, Xena Warrior Princess, the way he always purposefully said the wrong names of tv shows (ex. Slugged by an Angel), Seawart, Thanksgiving dressing.... So many memories. I'm grateful that you were my dad! ♥️
I get that I'm a fundamental kind of person. I ask the usual question when you get home. How was your day? What did you get for lunch? Anything new? ...and of course, you give me your run-of-the-mill answers. Fine, blah blah blah... But then a day later you send me a picture of something that you bought while you were at a store and expect me not to start "narrating possible situations" because you don't write anything with that picture. I'm just supposed to know. This is why I feel confused and left out of your world. Because you don't share those little details that I would love to get. I know....basic girl crap....you know what? It's basic because that is how it should be ...basic information sharing.
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