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June, 2014 When I was four years old, my mother and father got a divorce. When we moved, our new house was 1.5 hours away from my father. He never said a word about the distance. Every Saturday, he got in his car and drove 1.5 hours to pick me up, and then another 1.5 hours back to his house. On Sunday, less than 24 hours later, he repeated the same 3-hour journey. He always had a smile on his face, eager to start our conversation about the week. We would talk about my friends, classes, etc. I remember one time telling him about a crush I had on this guy in school. I think my dad was just as excited as I was when I got a note from the guy in class. It was like I was talking to one of my girlfriends in school. I will never forget those moments. He is now 85 years old. He is and will always be my best friend. Happy Father’s Day.
 

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