Dad, thank you for –

Being the one who taught me how to drive, how to deal with a fusebox and how to trim and paint a room like a pro. And for (still) answering my questions about pest control, caulking, household electricity, bathroom plumbing and any other technical issue I throw your way.

Climbing up trees and onto the roof for those crazy, night-time snowball fights we had when we were kids. (and thank you for teaching me how to craft the perfect snowball so that I stood a chance against my brother and boy cousins.)

Being a total goof.

Building that castle tree-house in the back yard. That thing was insane. I still can’t believe you built it.

All those painstaking hours of pool maintenance so that we could swim all summer long.

Getting us that stupid cat we’d always wanted, even though (unbeknownst to us) you were allergic.

All those teeny-tiny notes in miniature handwriting that you’d leave under our pillow, from The Tooth Fairy, and for the sooty footprints you’d leave by the fireplace to prove that Santa Claus had really been there.

Singing songs to us at bedtime, as The Swedish Chef.

Keeping that enormous collection of National Geographic magazines in the family room, at kid-level, so that we could look at them whenever we wanted.

Answering all of my why-is-the-sky-blue nature and science questions, before the Internet.

Bringing me back all those Archie comics from your business trips to the States.

Barbecuing us dinner through the Ice Storm of ’98.

Teaching me how to make stollen.

Making your own wine and beer, before it was cool.

Happily taking all the black and yellow candies and the burnt toast that we pawned off on you.

Making me brush my teeth, even when I didn’t want to.

Helping me through those long hours of math homework, when all I wanted to do was tear my hair out and cry.

Not disowning me when I was going through the hormonal roller coaster that is l’adolescence au féminin.

Helping me move from one apartment to the next, not once, not twice, but FIVE times, without complaining once, despite the fact that summer moves are always hot and sweaty and downright miserable.

Being one of the first people to comment on this blog and for rooting me on along the way.

Most of all, thank you for your patience and unconditional support. Neither goes unnoticed. I’m lucky to have a dad that’s always there for me, no matter what.

Happy Father’s Day, dad. Love you with all my heart. x