i remember you were usually on patrol for our birthdays, but you would alway stop by in time for us to blow out the candles.
i remember the jingling sound from the keys on your belt. the squeaky creak of your gun belt.
i remember the smell of the chapstick – the plain flavor that smelled like policemen to me. and your old spice cologne before it was popular.
i remember having to be quiet during the day because you were sleeping after a hard night’s work. and i remember reva getting yelled at for being so loud. she’s still kinda loud today, isn’t she.
i remember feeling so proud of you and at the same time a little worried about your safety.
and now, today, when you tell me how to drive or lecture me about speeding, instead of rolling my eyes i smile. because i know your past. we have history. you’ve been around a long time and i am grateful. it’s come close too many times for my liking, but you’ve always kept on kicking.
and while i never wrecked the car on an outing for a dairy queen cake, that time i hit the parked car in our driveway may have surpassed that.
you didn’t even yell. you just shook your head and walked back into the house. i may have giggled after you left the room.
sometimes i forget your age because you are my dad. but you haven’t changed to me.
even though your heart slows you down, you are still strong. strong…and a little bit crazy.
maybe that’s why i love you so much.