(Marissa's) Dad

This is my daddy.

This is me and my dad. A long time ago. I'm taller now.

Today when I was freaking about the SAT and ACT and college and what on earth I'm going to do once I leave home and have to buy my own groceries, the man above sat down with me and helped me register for the SAT and assured me that it was OK.

And then everything was fine.

My daddy is a teacher. Always. When I asked to get my ears pierced he wanted to know why I was so keen to poke holes in my body. He made me write a thesis about it before I could. Of course, I wanted to because all my friends were doing it, but I said it was for "cultural experience" and "self expression."

My dad values learning above almost everything else. He reminds me consistently that I should never let school get in the way of my education.

My dad is the one who got me interested in China. Mostly by dragging me there and being so enthusiastic that I really had no choice in the matter but to get as obsessed as he was.

When I chose to take Chinese classes which my high school didn't have and decided to take them at college instead, my dad helped me do it. He tells me that I should always do things I have a good chance at failing at, because falling down flat on your face is one of those experiences you're supposed to have. If you aren't doing it then you're letting pride get in the way of learning.

My dad is biased when it comes to me. He thinks I'm amazing, even going so far as to say that I'm not a klutz (I have six, very recent, large, purple bruises that say otherwise). I'm glad he's biased for me, though. Sometimes I really need someone who is. Sometimes that's what dad's are for.

This is my dad and this is his family. I'm the one in the middle. It's a nice place to be.

(Told you I was taller now.)

Love you daddy! Happy Father's Day.

Over.