My Dad.

Father-daughter moments. What are they made up of?

• Washing cars together. My dad lets me control the setting of the hose.
• Laughing at my dad's hook shot. Old-school, baby.
• Watching World Cup matches in silence at 6AM.
  

The last one is especially endearing because we never decide to watch together. Somehow, the game just draws the both of us downstairs. (Although I must admit to a tendency to like the teams he does. ) I love my moments with my father and even though his hair grows gray and his voice more soft-spoken, some things never change. I'm not sure what exactly makes these moments, but they're unspoken with a dabble of contentment and hints of wholeness. Perhaps that is why it hurts when you lose someone. You've lost a part of someone who made you who you are. Or you've lost a part of yourself. Anyway, I am thankful for these father-daughter moments and I'm thankful for my dad who shows me that love is more than just words.

Sidenote:
I can never remember if it's "gray" or "grey". I looked up the difference and apparently "gray" is a color and "grey" is a colour. Well now, chip chip cheerio!