A Dad’s Love

Growing up, I idolized and adored my father with an innocence and purity that only a child could have. At the age of 8, I wore my hair long and in a ponytail, just like he did. I carried a briefcase to school in lieu of a backpack. I wore penny loafers with actual pennies in them. My dad could have put a stop to it, or perhaps gently warned his son that he could face ridicule in the fierce world of the third grade, but he did not. He let me be myself, even when it might have been difficult for me.