I Not a Father’s Day post

I didn’t post on Father’s Day about how great my Dad was. Not because he wasn’t, but I didn’t call him Dad, I called him Father.

As in my father was the disciplinarian. “Just wait until you’re Father gets home,” Mom said when I was bad.

Or “Ask your Father” when I begged for something special.

So he was “Father” in my mind.

I was his favorite when I was little. How did I know? It was that magic children have about who loves them. I would run to him and he’d pick me up and spin me around until I was dizzy with laughter.

My Father read to my sister and I every evening from the classics. The joy of books is a wonderful part of my memories of my Father. I heard the classics, Tarzan, Tom Sawyer, A Christmas Carol. He also ingrained in me the need for education since he and my Mom never graduated from high school.

Walking me down the aisle.

He wanted to be an author, so I guess his gift to me was the same goal. And here I am. My book, Ancient Blood is number five.

Thank you, my Father. You gave me such great gifts.

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Author: Barbara Edwards

Riveting Romance with an Edge

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