As a baby, I can remember reading the paper with my dad every morning and thus my love of reading was sparked.
I can remember my dad slowly working his way into a headstand and other yoga poses in the middle of the living room. My desire for mediation and introspection was founded by watching my dad finding moments of his own solitude and quiet.
I remember my dad leading us to the summit of Mt. Democrat with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a bottle of Perrier. My love of the outdoors and adventure was imminent.
I remember nervously watching my dad wait to have a word with my high school basketball coach, not because he was going to give him an ear-full for not playing me enough but because he was unhappy with the way the coach had treated me as a human being. In that moment I learned the importance of standing by and defending your family.
I remember crying in frustration on the tennis court and listening to my dad as he told me that if I didn't want to play, I didn't have to. From his words I learned patience and empathy.
I remember sitting at the starting line aboard my CRF 250 motorcycle with my dad, watch in one hand, my hand in his other. I felt his support and encouragement even though it was something truly foreign to him.
I remember him hugging and caring for me, my sisters and brother and my mother in the toughest of times. I longed to emulate his perseverance and love of his family.
I remember his calm and quiet as I chose to have a homebirth. And from this I found my independence and my strength.
My mom always tells me that when my dad first saw me, he fell in love with me. I wonder if he knows just how much I fell in love with him.