Our children are rarely in the area on special occasions. Let me clarify that. If something were REALLY special, we’d be together at some point, but Father’s Day is not one of those days. One daughter lives 800 miles away, and the other 3,000. Also, pertinent to the story is John’s love of greeting cards. Buying a card is the first thing he thinks of. I’m on the opposite end of the scale. I’m hardly ever at a loss for words, and, miser that I am, I hate to spend money on something I can do myself.
I realized on Sunday morning that I had done nothing to mark this day. When John came in the room, I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything for Father’s Day.”
Before I could get breath for another sentence, he said, “I’m not your father.”
“Well, yes, but….”
It took me a minute to recover, but I continued, “You often get me something for Mother’s Day. I’ll tell you what. On the way home from church, let’s stop in Dollar General. They have a great card selection. I’ll find the card I think is suitable. You’ll read it, and we can put it back on the shelf and leave.”
He burst out laughing, so I figured I gave him a bit of pleasure on the day.