Calling Dad

I call my daddy everyday. It used to be every morning, but now sometimes it's in the afternoon or even the evening. I used to think I was doing it for him, to make sure he knew someone cared about him. Now I know it's been for me all along. I need to hear his voice. I need to know that he's okay. I need to know if there's anything I can help him with or that he wants to just talk about. We've always been able to talk about all kinds of things for a long time, and this hasn't changed anything. Sometimes our conversations are 15 minutes; other times they go an hour.

I thanked him yesterday for his ready willingness to answer my call everyday. He responded by saying that I'm sunshine in his day. It was really sweet and something I've never heard before. Except for my sweet Kevin, I don't think anyone has ever told me that I am sunshine. It was like coming upon a full spray of roses I'd never seen before in a garden I've walked a thousand times.

Kind words do mean a lot. One of the things my mom did most excellently was to never miss an opportunity to give someone a compliment. Perfect strangers were a favorite target, but she fragranced our lives with them as well. Makes me happy that my dad isn't constipated that way and can openly share the same way with us.

Have I spent some life-offering words on someone lately...?


Think I'm going to call my daddy...