Today my Dad came by.

He couldn't stay long - he had to meet his new accountant.
But he came right up to my front door like a gentleman and asked to see my apartment. He didn't care that we'd had a party the night before - he didn't care that I had an empty beer can on my desk. He was excited to see Sarah and gave her a hug; he met Harley, Sarah's boyfriend, too.

We got in his brand new used truck and we went to Panera for lunch. He'd already eaten, but he bought me a little egg souffle thing (which was awesome). He unloaded his stresses about the bills and the house and his job, and I nodded and smiled and joked with him while he described the boat he wants (a $1250 fixer-upper). He listened to me talk about my stresses, but I tried to mention as many accomplishments as I could, to reassure him that I'm doing well and that I'm sorry college is so expensive but I need money for the rent and I'm going to be on the cover of a book, so please be proud of me.

He told me I'm doing great, and he told me to sit when I got up asked him if he wanted to leave. He wanted to talk more, which meant a lot to me. I don't get to see my Dad much.

He came into Blick with me and met my manager Ben. He asked me a lot of questions about things in the store, so I felt special knowing all the answers and being able to teach him something.

He dropped me off at my studio so I could work, and he headed off. I went upstairs to work. A minute later, he called me on the phone - I assumed I had forgotten my wallet or something and that he'd have to drive all the way back.

But instead, he said, "I just wanted to tell you that I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world. Whatever you decide to do, I just want you to know that I think you're fantastic just the way you are, and that I don't tell you how pretty you are often enough. I love you, and you're my beautiful girl."

I joked with him in defense of how sweet and honest that was, and when he hung up, I started bawling my eyes out in my studio. My Dad is so tough and so goal-oriented that he forgets to stop and think about simpler things, sometimes. I get a lot of my fire from him.



You're right Dad, you never tell me enough.

But thank you for telling me today.