One of my earliest memories in life is one where I’m running. It’s dusk and I am barreling down the sidewalk, over the raised spots where the cracked concrete has started to shift and crumble. I don’t know if I’m running toward something or just running for the sheer joy of movement, but my four year old legs are carrying me faster than my balance can equalize.
I fall.
Rolling over, scraped and bleeding on my knees, I look up into the eyes of the most amazing man I’ve ever known. My dad. Daddy scooped me up, simultaneously wiping my tears, soothing me with his words of assurance and taking a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket to dab the bleeding knees. I have never felt so loved.
Fast forward through a lifetime of scrapes, broken heart moments and health scares and that man, Don Steed, is still my hero. Thank you dad for sitting by my bedside day after day as we prayed my twins would not be born early, for walking me down the aisle, for making memories more valuable than gold, for teaching me to be a strong and confident woman and for continuing to bring those loving moments to my children.
I honor and love you very much Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
Love,
Patricia
