The Mark

The cruelest joke my sister would tell me is that I was adopted.
Frantically I would search through the family photo album look
for a picture, looking for proof of baby pictures with my parents.

It is the mark behind his left knee and the curve of his pinkie
toes. I have his nose. It is a boxer nose. When we stand side
by side, there is no mistake that I am my father’s daughter.

He is quiet and shy. He does not talk much. When he does
speak, I know it is important.

Dad has worked most of his life and did not have the luxuries
that some are offered. His pride kept him strong and
courageous so that he could provide the best for his family.
He often tells me how proud he is of me but it is the other
way around. I am proud to call him my father.

The military has taken him to two wars. I remember the second,
desert storm. It’s hard to forget a time when your family is not
whole.

These days he moves a little slower but he character remains the
same. He is a hard worker with pride, honesty, and loyalty. I love
you Dad, Happy Birthday and Happy Father’s Day.