Father's Day

It's Fathers Day, the first one since my Dad died, and I can't help but miss him today. My dad loved to fly, so we always tried to buy him things with an airplane theme for special occasions. He also loved to tinker. For him a day out in the garage was pure bliss. He'd reorganize tools, build things out of sheet metal, and revive that which was broken or discarded by others. I remember when we were house hunting he wanted a house out in an unincorporated area so he could have his own junk yard. Luckily, my mother's sensibilities won out on that one. In some ways I understand my dad more now. As the only woman in a male household, I recognize why he sought out sanctuary in his garage. He was a male in an all woman household, although I sometimes think that my tomboyish ways helped a little. I at least knew the difference between a Phillips and a flathead. This next phase of life is nothing like I expected. As my own children grow and start to plan on lives of their own, I recognize how we change and evolve, but also how so many things remain the same, like my memory of him in coveralls, fixing things.