When I was growing up my dad worked incredibly hard. His morning commute started around 6 a.m. and he would walk back in our door around 7:15 every evening. I can remember waiting by the door with my twin brother as we heard the garage door open and his motor switch off. My mom was in the kitchen making us dinner, and my brother and I waited with wet hair from our baths with bated breath in our various princess and super hero pajamas. The second the engine switched off, we banged open the door to the garage and my father was met with two high pitched screams of “DADDY!” as we ran full speed into him.
Because of a massive and outrageously bratty meltdown that my brother and I threw in a Toys-R-Us when we were in kindergarten, my parents made the decision to get rid of television. What was originally supposed to be a temporary punishment turned into seven years of the Yarbrough’s being that weird family without cable. At the time, I had no idea that this would result in what is now my most cherished childhood memory.
Every night after dinner, my father would sprawl out on the floor of my brother's bedroom and read aloud to us for hours. My brother and I sat on my brother’s bed playing with whatever action figure or Polly Pocket was our favorite at the moment, and my mother sat knitting in a small wooden chair that fit at my brother’s desk. By the age of 10, we had listened to "The Hobbit" and the entire "Lord of the Rings" saga. We read all the "Harry Potter" books, "Eragon," "Terry Pratchett," and the "Redwall" series, among countless others.
While this might seem very Little House on the Prairie it was actually incredibly cool. These long nights all piled up in my brother’s room are what I remember from my childhood, and looking back on them, I grow more and more grateful. My father worked an incredibly stressful job. On top of that, during the fall he coached my brother’s football team. My mother worked part time, took care of two wild children with ADD and dyslexia and was a very active volunteer in our school, and with the junior football organization. It would have been easy for my family to allow the chaos of our lives to take over; instead, my parents made a point of instilling in my brother and me two things: the importance of family togetherness, and a love of reading.
I could make an endless list of all the reasons I’m thankful for my dad, and of all of the things he has done for me and my family, but this Father’s Day I wanted to make sure he knew how incredibly thankful I am for all the silly accents he put on while reading "Harry Potter" to us, and for all the times he caught me when I launched myself into his arms.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy! Love ya! Mean it!
