My Dad, Chocolate, New Mattresses: My Tuesday Gratitudes

Today, my beloved father turns 70 years old. My dearest dad. My BFF from the day I was born. I was his sidekick for nearly everything. Grocery store trips, Christmas gift shopping for my mom, work car ride-alongs when I was out of school. We have the same affinity for chocolate ice-cream-based anything (milkshakes, soft serve cones, mushed up store-bought varieties in a mug with a splash of milk); one of our favorite things to do while I was growing up, just me and him, was to go to the local Steak’N’Shake and get a chocolate shake. We had a signal between us two, and it involved very little actual verbiage and mostly a visual cue.

My father, the eternal optimist, the gentle soul who doesn’t like conflict (to a fault), the man who worked nights when I was an infant so he could watch me during the day while my mom worked normal hours. We took lots of naps, I hear. Probably why ’til this day, I still love a good catnap. Thanks for that, daddy. The man who comes into my home and politely asks if he can use the bathroom, or open the fridge to get a drink. The man who literally nearly never bought himself anything he wanted to make sure his family was taken care of. I can’t tell you how many times growing up we’d go to the Bose store to look at expensive speaker systems, always walking out empty-handed. It was enough for him to just go in there and dream, never getting what he dreamed of for the house as long as my oboe private lessons were paid for, or my sister and brother could get the braces they needed.

He taught me to always look forward, even in the hardest times. To never give up hope, always be faithful for better. He taught me to love a cup of freshly brewed Puerto Rican espresso with steamed milk. We sat together at my parents’ kitchen island so many mornings. Even as a grown woman, when I still lived at home, I’d come down before heading off to work and had a coffee (and possibly scrambled eggs if I had time for them) ready for me. I never had to ask. He’d take the time to chat with me while I sipped in my daily caffeine fix, shoveling breakfast into my mouth before leaving for the day.

There was never, and likely will never, be a time that I couldn’t count on him to be there for me. Without complaint. Without guilt. Without fault. I was one of the only kids in my high school marching band who had a parent deliver icy cold water to them before a scorching hot practice to make sure I was comfortable. Oftentimes, a hot meal in hand, as well (while everyone else sucked down chips and cookies from the vending machine). Early morning and late-night airport runs, no questions asked. The list is infinite, truly.

Happy birthday, my daddy. I’m so grateful to be your daughter, I’m so grateful that you’re still here in our lives. The ultimate Tuesday Gratitudes today.

In addition, I want to share gratitude for the following things:

I’m grateful for another year to also celebrate my beloved Charles, coming up this weekend.

I’m grateful for chocolate, in all forms.

I’m grateful I passed a medical test I was nervous about (for gestational diabetes).

I’m grateful my body still has the strength to get through very active physical therapy sessions.

I’m grateful and looking forward to acquiring a new, larger, firmer mattress to help with my back.

I’m grateful for homemade breakfast burritos waiting in the freezer.

I’m grateful for chilly mornings.

I’m grateful for reconnecting with “lost” friends.

I’m grateful for being woken up in the middle of the night to thumps and thuds from little nena, letting me know she’s good and well.

I’m grateful for my life.

I’m grateful for you.

See you tomorrow, FOAS.