I love you, Dad!

I've always loved the month of May. For several reasons. I remember being in elementary school and dancing around the Maypole decorated with ribbons the colors of the rainbow to celebrate the beginning of the summer and honor regrowth of all things green... things that sustain us... all the gifts the earth provides. My pots and baskets are filling with the flowers that I planted a few weeks ago. Our garden is beginning to take form, and soon we'll reap the benefits of the food that will grow on the branches and vines. May signals a slowing to the horrendous storms that are a part of April, and these past weeks have been wrought with devastation from some seriously diabolical weather. This month brings the end of the school year, and a much anticipated break from the rush of early mornings and homework before dinner.

May is also filled with birthdays for several of some of my favorite people. I can count at least 10 friends and family members who were welcomed into the world in the fifth month of the year. May is when my sweet boy was born, when my life quadrupled with love. For some reason, I've always jived well with people whose birthdays are in this month, and many of my nearest and dearest are May babies.

Today we celebrated one of the very most important people in my life. May Day is my amazing, kind, generous, special, awesome dad's birthday, which makes it one of my favorite days of the year. Without his guidance and love and support, I have no idea where I'd be. I know that my life is truly blessed for having him as my father. He did an outstanding job (with my mother, of course) raising me and my brothers... he was forever involved in school and sports and many other aspects of our lives. My memories of him from when I was young are of those when we were outdoors...playing catch, riding bikes, going for runs, swimming, skipping stones... just playing and laughing. Telling jokes and finding humor in the world. He made sacrifices for his family and often put himself last to make sure we had all we need. He taught us about love and family and responsibility. He taught us about caring for others and what it means to be a good person. We haven't always shared the same perspectives, and he really likes to argue with me (even if he agrees with me), but our discussions are meaningful and intelligent. (I'm pretty sure that he's even coming around and starting to accept some of my positions on left-winged issues...he'll deny it, but he's a closet liberal.)

And, now, he's an incredible grandfather to my babies. Some of my most cherished moments are those that I spend watching him with my Ella and Summit. He L.O.V.E.S them and they L.O.V.E him right back. I mean, really. They play and laugh and snuggle and tell stories. They swim and boat and hit balls and sing songs and read books. They just appreciate their time together, and this means so very much to me. I savor the notion that they'll have memories of their childhood layered with the love from my dad. It's like he was born to be Popi.

And I am so thankful for the day on which he was born. Thankful for my father. I love you, Dad. You are a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, arms that carry, a heart filled with love, a head full of advice, eyes bearing wisdom, and a voice laced with laughter.