hula hoops and hampster wheels

I remember being little and watching national geographic tv shows with my dad. He was trying to take a saturday afternoon nap and knew that the only way I'd fall asleep is if he made me watch and listen about Elephants and Tigers.

I remember learning how to ride my bike -- I just got my training wheels off and he would jog behind me holding the metal loop of my pink banana seat bike and then how he let go -- and I was doing it by myself and then relized it -- I fell and scraped my knee.

I remember my dad calling me at work at 3:30 in the afternoon almost every day -- telling me what creatures were in the back yard -- or talking about the cake he just made. Then arriving home at 6 or so -- he wanted me to help him frost it and then eat it before dinner and give him my official thumbs up for approval.

I remember when I would be sad over a tramatic junior high or highschool relationship ending in turmoil and how he would offer to go over and talk to him and or beat him up.

I remember how in every year book he would write compliments of the chef. And I'm overwhelmed at see his handwriting on a scratch of paper.

I'm finding it harder now to remember his exact voice. But I can hear him from time to time crystal clear.

I remember fishing and working in the garden with him -- digging for worms, not afraid of leeches or nightcrawlers.

I remember once we left early in the morning to go fishing and we stopped somewhere to get breakfast and I wanted a California burger -- and the waitress said they weren't serving lunch but my dad asked her if they would be able to make french fries and serve them with pancakes.

I remeber learning how to mow the yard, and then him shaking his head when I finished and it looked like a drunken kangaroo was in charge of the yard.

Things I don't remember -- I don't remember the last time we hugged or said I love you- instead we spoke through the cats -- Riley Roo loves you dad -- Maxwell loves you Kristen.