I started to wonder if he was at the right airport. I had just flown through the night, I’m not even sure I slept at all and I’m not a night person. I sure hoped he was not at Dulles when I was at BWI.

“Dad, I’ve been sitting here and I have not seen you drive past!” Maybe he went behind that bus though? “Well, I have driven around TWICE and not seen you!” Hm.

It all the sudden clicked. I was waiting at arrivals. That explains it. I told him in my most apologetic voice and asked him if I should stay or he should come or what should we do? “Just STAY PUT!” Yes, sir.

A few minutes later my dad rescued me from the arrival terminal, Whitecaps shirt on and all. We both laughed at my dumbness, hopped in the car and began talking as if we had seen each other yesterday. It’s like that with my dad. We just click.

We’ve had our rough patches, though. Like in college when I decided it would be a good idea to shut everyone out of my life who loved me. Those were dark days for me, and a lot of it had to do with the fact that I wasn’t as close to my dad as I had been. That ate me up. But he never stopped trying to reach me. Or the time I let him know that I was pregnant via email because I was too scared to tell him in any other capacity. With open arms he welcomed me back home to finish my degree as I grew Evelyn, and with those same arms he loved her, too. It’s like that with my dad. He just somehow finds a way to love you despite mistakes you may make.

He left me a message when I was at the airport, Reagan this time, getting ready to head back to Vancouver. I somehow never received the call, so it went straight to voicemail. I sat down and listened to him tell me that he missed me and loved me and to call him when I landed in Dallas. I cried. Because it’s like that with my dad.

My dad with his dad.

And me, at 16, with his dad.