the baby.

yesterday i was telling stories of my dad.
how he always writes in a journal,
how he always knows the weather.
how most of what he writes in his journal is the weather.

my dad was my alarm clock every day growing up. i remember in high school when i'd have to get up at 5 for cheer, he was my only chance at making it on time. i remember whenever he was gone when i went to bed, i would put a little index card on his pillow telling him what time i needed to be up.
he was my personal wake up call.

i remember when he would drive me to violin before the sun was up and we would memorize all of the creedence clearwater revival songs. i remember when he took us to their concert and it was pouring rain, but we covered up in trash bags and sang along anyways. and i remember when he danced on the front row at the backstreet boys concert.

i remember walking on his back every night. i remember watching him take care of his parents. i remember all his jokes. i remember daddy's eggs, daddy's salsa, and daddy's garden. i remember europe, thailand, japan, costa rica, hawaii, and everywhere else. i remember seeing him at all my dance recitals, violin concerts, cheer competitions, and school assemblies. i remember watching him with his patients, watching him at church, watching him do the dishes, and watching him with all the robinson babies.

i remember all the big things (and there have been millions)
but i also remember all the small things.

my dad is my best friend and always will be.
i love him more than anything because i know he loves me more than anything.
he's turning 60 next week, and i can honestly say
i do not know any one else in the world as selfless, as caring, and as amazing as my dad.

thanks for every. single. thing.