by Carly Heider
Happy Father’s Day,
my personal superhero;
you deserve to be honored on this day
just as much as Mother’s Day.
Today,
it’s my turn to treat you to dinner.
I’ll even drive this time, too.
Take a break, sit down, relax -
something you never do.
I think you’ve forgotten how.
We may be the only
mother-daughter pair here,
but you deserve the Father’s Day special on the menu
just as much, if not more, than the fathers around us.
It’s the least I can do to repay you
for being there every inch of these years that I have grown.
Twenty years
of booster shots and vaccines,
teeth-cleanings and cavity fillings,
glasses and contacts and braces -
You were there to hold my hand every time.
You were the one who rushed me to the hospital
when I fell off the bed and snapped my arm.
You slept in hospital chairs overnight
as nurses monitored my breathing
after so many asthma attacks.
Every time my lungs failed,
it was you who sat with me for twenty minutes,
countless times over twenty years,
while a machine nursed my lungs back to health.
You were the first to see me smile a new, sparkly, straight
smile after two long years of being a metal-mouth.
Twenty years of sacrifice;
I work this hard every day -
all school and work, no time for play --
for you.
Twenty years and two kids
by yourself.
Endless hours spent at work six days a week
just to feed us every night.
All the clothes you didn’t buy,
the hair-appointments you cancelled,
your Saturday nights out that you spent in
when I was heartbroken or sick
did not go unnoticed by my eye,
nor were they ignored by my heart.
Twenty years old, and still
with every crisis, every heartbreak,
every major decision I may make,
on my bad days and my good,
yours is the first number I dial
because I know you will pick up the phone
like any super-parent should.
Happy Father’s Day, Mom.
Now enjoy your food.
Today more than any day,
you are “Dad” too.