February 18th is my dads birthday.
I cant remember how old he is.
Simply because I have the Birthday-itis which is a rare disease in which my brain randomly remembers when someone is a specific age (usually from the first time I met them or in familys case, a significant birthday like 40 or 50) and I forever can only recall them as being that age.
Some people misinterpret this for kindness or flattery, but really its just that I am totally incapable of remembering anyones actual birthday. Birthday-itis. I wish I was kidding.
This is my dad and my Great Grandma. My kids’ Great-Great Grandma.
This picture sorta chokes me up a bit. My Great Grandma Inga is my moms Grandma… but the day my dad married my mom, she became his grandma.
She adores him. She dotes on him.
And he on her.
They are two people that I treasure beyond words. And seeing my father humbled with love and respect for this woman that has molded and defined generations of women is quite inspiring.
Many years ago (I think I was 16 or 17?) I gave my dad a little plaque with the inscription on it,
“Father, in this world you have given me two things. One is roots and the other is wings.”
I cant help but smile with gratitude every time I read it.
Thanks for loving one hard to love kid. Thanks for forgiving me when I didnt deserve it. Thanks for telling me the truth about myself… because you were the only one I would accept it from.
Thanks for being a kid with my kids.
Thanks for being you.
You are loved and appreciated.
Happy 50th Birthday! (40th? or 55th? I must be getting closer…)