I don’t think of myself as the sentimental type…maybe that Irish-German mix that runs through my blood cancels each other out. But when I opened my copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul’s Thanks, Dad to read my story, I sorta, kinda sniffled.
Truly, it’s not a sappy story. It’s about the first car I ever bought. On my own. Because Dad wouldn’t help me buy it. Even though my job was part-time and I didn’t have 10 bucks to my name. I mean, c’mon. That’s not a teary story.
And yet, when I think of the lessons I learned from that experience, and how my father prodded and pushed (and sometimes dragged me kicking and screaming) to be the responsible woman I am today, I’m not only full of gratitude but also love. (What is wrong with me? I’m getting a little flekempt right now.)
Then I went back to read the first story of the book, and I sorta, kinda sniffled again. Same for the next story, and the next, and the one after that. Maybe it’s a Dad thing. All I know is that my Dad’s getting a copy of Thanks, Dad for Father’s Day. (Not the one I’ve been dripping tears on.)
And maybe you’d like Thanks, Dad for the dad in your life. So, leave a comment here through April 11th, and if I randomly draw your name, you can win my extra copy. (Not the one I’ve been dripping tears on.)