The Little Things That Count

You know how we keep hearing the phrase “sometimes it’s the little things that count?”

Well, today I think I actually understood what the extremely profound people with the happy-go-lucky attitude are trying to say.

Tonight, as I was sitting with my father and drafting an email for him, it suddenly hit me that this might be one of those moments that I’ll remember him by in the hopefully very very far future. As I was writing his words, I saw his personality shine through, I saw how he chooses his words and how he creates his sentences. As I was typing away, my heart filled a little more with love for him with every sentence.

I love my father very much. No, I am sure you do too, but I think I love him to the point where it almost hurts. He is my mother and my father, my teacher and yes, maybe my best friend too. When I say he is one of the good people, I’m not being biased (you’ll know what I mean if you meet him once).

This is probably the first of my many post to come about my father. I have so much to talk about him, and I will use my blog to do so.


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