Jun. 21st, 2015

bluealoe: (BlueAloe)
Another year, another Father's Day.

Instead of drowning in grief, this year I want to share a story.

I was about four years old, and my dad, his best friend Gary, and I were visiting friends at fish camp (only accessible by boat). When we got in the boat to go home, the motor was broken. Dad borrowed a little 10-horsepower motor from a friend, which would get us home, but would take about five times as long as usual. We set off putt-putting down the river, and soon the temperature dropped, and it began to rain. The boat was open, with no cover from the rain, but we had one sleeping bag. So Dad told me to crawl in the sleeping bag, and zipped it up around me. I pulled it over my head, and soon I was warm and comfy.

I poked my head out a few times to see Dad and Gary soaking wet, grimly steering the boat down the river. They were obviously tired and uncomfortable and just wanted to get home. But whenever they caught sight of me, they smiled and reassured me everything was okay. And I stuck my head back in the sleeping bag and felt safe and secure and loved.

It's a memory that makes me feel like all is right with the world, and secure in the knowledge that I am loved. And to this day, I still think that is one of the best things my father ever did for me.

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BlueAloe

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