June 14, 2012
What a Father's Love Is Like
The summer I was 17, I traveled west with a friend. Three days after the tassels were flipped from one side to the other and hats were tossed into the air, I packed up and headed out west across country for an entire summer.
The very first Sunday, Father's Day, I was calling home collect to wish my dad a 'Happy Father's Day.' He wasn't home. The operator let me leave a message for free. It was Father's Day, afterall.
Thanks to modern technology, more than 15 years later, on a different summer day, I called his cell phone. He was at work, but answered immediately.
We laughed and joked around for a good ten minutes. When I asked him how his day was going, he told me. Then it occured to me, and I gingerly asked, "Dad, where are you?"
He easily replied, "Oh, I'm up on this building, working."
I thought I had heard him wrong. I asked him slowly, "What?"
"I'm up on this beam, working."
My heart beat wildly. I squealched my alram, and tried to even my voice to sound respectful as I asked, "What are you doing answering the phone?"
"Well, because you called," he answered.
A father's love.