When I was little, I somehow got a splinter in my foot. I walked on my foot and winced and yelped in pain as I stepped. My dad, being the unofficial surgeon that he was, decided to take this into his own hands.

He sat me down on a tall chair in the garage and got out his pliers and a fish hook. (Can you tell he was a single dad? Not a single pair of tweezers under his roof.) He took my foot into his lap and examined it. I stared at him terrified. He started poking around and I whimpered in uncomfortableness. He got the splinter out with very little incision and very little pain. I was shocked when he put the splinter in his hand and showed me how tiny it was. I looked at him like, "That was it?" And I admired him for saving me.

As a dad, it is in the manual that he is supposed to kill bugs, remind me I am worth it, teach me life skills and remove splinters. He took the time to find this wee little splinter and take away the pain because he loved me. He easily could've left it in for the night (it was very late at night) or told me to soak it and we'd look the next day, but he knew to get it out as soon as possible. He saw the hurt in my eyes and just wanted to take it away. I know he found enjoyment in getting to play operation, but he also found peace in making me happy again.

When my dad took the tiny splinter out of my foot I realized the impact such a tiny thing could have on my life. The pain this splinter caused me was so big, I still cringe at the thought of it. But the splinter was so small! How could something the size of a grain of rice effect me? Well, it's just like every little moment can become a memory. Every little word can become engraved in my brain and remembered forever. Even when someone else doesn't think it's a big deal, it could be a big deal to me or you.

This incident was very minor, small and easily forgettable. But when my time was cut short with my dad, I tried to gather all my memories with him. I remembered this splinter because of the fact that it was so tiny but cause so much pain. It was such an odd thing to younger me.

The little impact my dad made on me by taking the splinter out of my foot became something more than just a memory. It became a lesson without him even knowing he was teaching.