9:46 PM

I have so many memories of my dad growing up.
He's not the kind of Dad you'd forget. He was around. He was interested.
He is interested still.

He was the kind of Dad who was there when you needed him and there when you didn't want him.
There when you need help and there to stop you doing the things you shouldn't.

I've got lots of memories but tonight as I reflect on my Dad one memory sticks out.

It was a Friday. I was seventeen.
I'd had a long week at school and finished it off with a game of basket ball.
My long weeks were looong. School all day and music practice well into the evening.
I can't really remember the specifics but I was tired and upset.

We were in the car, my dad and I.
I think I had that look on my face.
You know the look of a seventeen year old girl who's had a long and tiring week.
But it was more, I can't remember what it was exactly but I was having friend dramas and it was the end. of. the. world.

He asked me what was wrong and in a rare share of emotions I told him.
I think it must have sounded more like the noise of water coming out of the blow hole of a whale coupled with the whale making those whale noises they like to make.
But it was something.

I remember he just listened, and then he just held me.
(We weren't driving by the way, just sitting.)

My big, independent, headstrong, seventeen year old self in the arms of my ever loving dada.

It wasn't the first time he did such a thing, and there have been a few times since but I'm remembering this particular time tonight with a thankful heart that I have a dad who loves me.

A dad who has always loved me.

I have a lifetime of memories and though they may not be perfect, there has always been love.
And that has made all the difference.

Apologies to my brother for the shiny white face...

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