Happy Part of a Leg Day

I was less than two years old when my Dad died.

I have one memory of him.

I can remember a little bit of his leg and a bit of a maroon robe he wore.

And his slippers.

He was standing by our front door.

I want to thank him for teaching me how to ride a bike.

And to play chess and Monopoly.

How to swim and how to use a lawn mower.

How to ride a horse and how to throw a baseball.

I want to thank him for teaching me how to read.

And how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

I'd like to also thank him for teaching me to fish and for driving me to school.

For buying me my first car.

And that G. I. Joe.

Thanks Dad.

Or should I call you Mom?