Wouldn't it be awesome if I was such an amazing photographer that I could just throw up a couple photos with a Happy Father's Day tagline and call it a post?
Well that won't be happening anytime soon.
But I'm not going to bore you with all our Daddy's Day details (that's what Instagram's for). What I am going to do is get something off my heart.
I've spent my entire life collecting friends and consider myself quite skilled in that department. It's one of my few talents... choosing the very best to like me back.
And there are no friendships older or more dear to me than my 'Hart girls' - a group of 1983 babies who bonded over Babysitter's Club and Hart Highland bike tours.
Amy, Sasha, Megan, Heather, Emily, Jessica & Lindsay
... those were the names of my childhood and neighbourhood. Our B.F.F. status dates back to my kindergarten birthday when I turned 5 in front of Ronald McDonald and a foursome of nuggets. We grew up in each other's bedrooms trading clothes and secrets and when it came time to say good-bye 12 short - memory filled - years later, I cried (and it wasn't purdy).
Those 7 human beings were my whole life - my weekends spent laughing on their trampolines, their addresses becoming posh summer homes, their phone numbers on speed dial and forever part of my finger's muscle memory.
I've been thinking about my Hart girls a lot lately, especially this past Sunday when Saige gifted Trev with her homemade "I love you daddy" paper heart. Two of my very best friends have received the very worst news about their own dads.
How can this be? We haven't even reached our 30th birthdays yet and already the "c" word is wreaking havoc on our lives. It's not fair. There are no words.
This unexpected news has made me think of my own life expectations. The expectation that my parents will always just be there - to host BBQ's, to pop by for visits, to
borrow give me that sweet painting they had hanging in their bathroom. I expected we'd have another 30+ years together; plenty of time for me to show them just know how much I love them.
I think the reason I hate cliches so much is because they're annoyingly accurate. Kids do grow up so fast and life is so short. My biggest fear these days is that I'm not making the most of it - out of life, out of my children's childhoods... I'm definitely trying to work on the whole carpe diem thing.
When I reflect on the lives of my girlfriends' dads, I think of two things: (1) that they've had rich, full & satisfying lives and (2) that they've brought much laughter into my life.
Mr. W has the BEST laugh, it's true. I've heard some pretty awesome laughs in my day, but Mr. W's infectious chuckle definitely takes the giggle cake. I wish there was some way to bottle the sound; his laughter is truly the best medicine.
And Mr. P is quite possibly the funniest character I've ever met (the apple didn't fall far from the tree on that one). Mr. P is something special; he's goofy and lovable and brilliant at finding a person's funny bone... I don't think I've ever been in the same room as him without almost peeing my pants.
yes these men are nothing short of amazing and lucky for me they passed on the 'amazing' gene to their daughters.
I just want to take a moment to wish them and my own 2 dads a
Happy Belated Father's Day!