Here's how it works:
1. Write for 5 minutes flat - no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link up over here, and feel free to ask others to join in
3. Go leave some encouragement on the post of the brave soul who linked right before you. And then read / love on a few others, too, if you want. Encourage a heart today.
This week's word:
RHYTHM.
He gave me a love of baseball. He gave me a model of integrity. He gave me an interest in politics (though by far the vast pass-along of this trait is with my not-so-little brother). But one of the greatest gifts my daddy gave me is a love of music.
One of my best birthday gifts was the year I turned 16. The adult school that met in the local high school offered a bunch of classes. Including: ballroom dancing. My dad gave me dance lessons that year - 8 glorious weeks of learning the fox trot, the cha-cha, the waltz. The tango, and I forget what else. 20 years removed from practicing every week will do that to a girl. But more than the lessons, he gave me the gift of his time. Not only did he sign me up for the class, he signed up to be my partner. 8 weeks of dancing together, just daddy and me.
My dad is a fantastic dancer - to this day he's the best dance partner I've ever had. He's not afraid to try new stuff, to get out there and just have fun. He gets the rhythm of the music, and can put a dance to anything. Now he dances with my daugthers, and they alternately giggle and groan. Squeal and ask him to do it more. Run away and hide. And come back again for another turn. We dance to country, to Christmas carols. To jazz and to whatever else is coming along the radio. We used to go to concerts and sometimes dance in the aisles.
Not too long ago I found this picture from those dance lessons way back when. And it always brings a smile to my face. Sharing the rhythm and learning to dance with my daddy.
Happy belated Father's Day, Daddy! You're amazing, and I am so blessed to have you.
Love,
Scooter
That's pretty special Scooter - love you bunches!
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