For him

Dear you,

I was eighteen, just beginning my sophomore year at college, visiting a good friend at an on-campus house. You walked in, your skin dark from soccer practices. And something in me.....what is the word....clicked in recognition? Not love at first sight. Looking back I think my soul recognized you. I can't explain it.

First friendship, then something more, then long-distance. Then many years together before becoming parents.

Did I imagine you as the father that you are when I watched your sexy legs playing soccer from my dorm window. I did not. At least I don't remember doing so. I think I focused on those sexy legs and movie star looks and then how you made me feel and how I was more myself with you than without you. And how you laughed at my quirky jokes when nobody else caught them.

I think of you as a deep, saturated green, calming my red, orange, yellow, blue and purple. Sometimes I wear green because it makes me feel closer to you.

You are sexier than you were way back when. But more importantly, stronger, more resilient, more forgiving than I ever could have imagined.

You make me feel beautiful, sexy, funny and free. Without you, I don't feel all those things; I feel less than I am.

I never have compared you to my father, but something happened the other day that made me realize what you have in common with him. You are a peacemaker, a mediator, a reliever of tension. You have faced a lot of pain, taken a lot of....well, to be completely honest, crap....and turned it into something beautiful.

You are and will be the green to your daughters' reds, yellows, oranges and purples, too. Lucky them. Lucky me.

We need you. We love you. We see you.

Love, love,