heather & dad — circa 1979
how it started.
For many, many years my dad traveled for work — but never once missed his weekend with me. Not once. Ever.
When it was time to say goodbye on Sunday evenings, I cried every single time. He'd wipe my tears, give me a few extra hugs, and then — once I was a bit more calm — he'd pull a worn navy blue bandanna from his pocket. He left it for me to hold until the next time.
That worn-in square piece of material brought me comfort. security. safety. It smelled like him. It gave me something to hold onto until I saw him again.
Fast forward to today — I moved away from home 17 years ago. Home is home, and I still cry every time I leave. To this day, I still leave with a bandanna.
Thanks, Dad. Love you.