{our} father

We celebrated Father's Day last night, with my parents in town from Arkansas and Lane in from KC. Sweet Papa took Macauley to our neighborhood pool and then we made a yummy dinner (well, mostly Lindsay made a yummy dinner--I boiled water and set the table) of grilled chicken, salad, cheesy potatoes, corn on the cob, watermelon and a chocolate cake to celebrate Lane's most recent promotion to Big Wig @ Francesa's, then chatted well into the evening. After a quick breakfast this morning, everyone has gone (Macauley went back to camp with my parents). The house is quiet.

Thank you, Ryan, for working so hard to take good care of us, being the Bad Cop to my Good, and for always making me feel like one hot mama. Thank you, Dad, for always showing us the way, not by pointing a finger or twisting an arm, but by walking the Right Way yourself and letting us follow.

"Gus has been asleep for the past two days. Not once does he open his eyes or speak. She wants so much to hear him call her "daughter" again. She's never heard anyone--not even her mother--call her this. It is such a nice word when she thinks about it. Daughter. Dot...her. Like a punctuation mark. It says, This one here, she's mine."

~Heather Gudenkauf (These Things Hidden)