If Dad had a choice, I would be a golfer.
Not for lack of trying, Daddy trying to get me into golf at an early age
So would my sisters. We would love the sport just as much as he does, we would love watching televised tournaments instead of just tolerating them, and just maybe we'd know enough to be able to pick out golf related gifts instead of relying on him to tell us what to get. He didn't get that lucky, we all love different things, but the best thing about Dad is he doesn't really care. What matters the most is that we are happy at whatever we do (and for me that I am successful enough in life to be financially independent because man, girls are expensive!).
He teases me about my choice of sport on weekends that I come home to visit. We are both up early on Saturday mornings and while he is chipper with the excitement of heading off to the golf course and enjoying his complete balanced breakfast, I lay on the kitchen floor eating a power bar and mentally prepping myself for my long run. Neither of us understand what the other sees in our sport. I don't have the hand/eye coordination to enjoy hitting a little white ball with a club and then chase it through the grass. And for whatever reason he doesn't enjoy the mental and physical torment of running for hours at a time. He always has some joke to make about him enjoying his golf and me looking so miserable heading out for a run. We both head for the door saying our "goodbyes" and "have funs" as I head off on foot and him by car. We may be into different activities, but at the end of the day we get the same thing out of each one. Time alone to think, clear our minds, enjoy a beautiful Saturday morning, each in our own way.
Thanks Dad for always letting me follow my heart even if it leads me to crazy places, and for always being there to cheer me on.
Happy Father's Day!