My father.

I was the first born kid in my family.

My mom grew up as the oldest with three brothers and sisters whom she helped raise, but my dad on the other hand had been an only child and never really interacted with any small children in his life.

Apparently when I was born, my dad cried. I assumed it was because his social life was officially over, however my mom informs me he was really happy to see me ;).

Mom tells me all the time that for the first few weeks, he was determined he was going to break me. He'd look at the baby clothes and then at my tiny frame and try to contemplate how in the world he was supposed to get my arm through the sleeves in the onesie.

But that was just the beginning.

Growing up, my dad was obsessed with Halloween. I was always okay trick-or-treating because I always knew my house would be the scariest one on the block, so I had nothing to worry about. Every year he built this massive spider out of garbage bags and PVC pipe in the front yard. He'd always rent a fog machine (I'm pretty sure after a few years he finally just bought one), we had a skeleton who's jaw would move while hooked up to a microphone. My dad would hide behind the curtains just inside the window and make creepy noises and sounds, imitating eerie zombies and monsters. Kids ran away screaming and we'd all roll around on the floor and laugh hysterically at how crazy (but awesome) my dad was.

I didn't love a lot of sports, but soccer was just my thing. I played for years and years on a rec team and every year, my dad was my assistant coach. He traveled for work during the week, but always tried to make my soccer practices and games. He introduced me to the various sounds of ACDC, Goo Goo Dolls and Third Eye Blind. We'd drive through the business park where broken sprinkler heads sprayed into the street. He'd roll down the windows and drive through the streams, making me giggle as the cool water droplets landed on my skin.

We butted heads a little as I got older, but he was always looking out for me.

He bought me my first car when I was seventeen. I went away to camp for a week and when I came back, he opened the garage door and there it was--my Honda Civic. Mom said he searched and searched and searched for that car--making sure it was safe and perfect.

He was the one I called when I got my first (and only, knock on wood!) speeding ticket. I prepared myself that I was going to get in serious trouble. I was already crying from the stress of getting pulled over, and was fully prepared for my dad to yell at me. I deserved it. Instead, he calmly said we'd talk about it when I got home from work that night and he made sure I knew he had gotten plenty of speeding tickets in his day. Telling me it happened to everyone and not to stress over it.

When I failed economics in college, I called my dad--again, fully prepared to get lectured. College was expensive and he was footing the bill; I deserved it. Instead, my dad chuckled and told me the story of how he had failed economics in college himself--it was a tough class. He told me how he got through it and that I could try again next semester.

When I sat my parents down and told them I was packing up my car and moving to California, I could see the hesitation on both of their faces. Again, I was fully prepared for them to disagree with me and not understand. While they were certainly sad to see me leave, my dad nodded and told me he'd drive with me if I wanted. When I told him I really wanted to do this by myself--he swallowed it and pulled out an atlas. He brought it to me with each and every state I would be driving through tabbed. He told me the nicer areas to stop along the way, and the not-so-nice stopping areas.

He told me one more thing. He told me if I ever needed to come home, he'd book the first flight he could and we'd drive back together. He assured me he would always be there, and I'd always have a home.

We don't always see eye to eye, but I appreciate him now more than ever as an adult. I hope he knows he's given me my wings and prepared me for this epic journey I've found myself traveling on.

Thanks for everything, Dad. I love you. Happy birthday.