Sunday, June 20, 2010


In my family, we love Post-It notes.  They decorate our house with their plethora of colors and meanings.  A Post-It on the liquor cabinet contains a phone message.  A Post-It at one's spot on the kitchen table means "Do this as soon as you're done eating breakfast."  A Post-It on the fridge says, "Mom, please go to the store."  A Post-It on the light switch at the top of the stairs stakes claims for the first shower in the morning.  The Post-Its on my bedroom door, bedside table, and pillow are my personal favorite.  They all read the same thing.  I know my sisters each have a collection of the same Post-Its.  That makes them a lie but a cherished lie.

Every time Dad leaves overnight on a business trip or something, he leaves four identical notes across the house.  While we were growing up, they were always tucked in the collars of polo shirts and left on pillows.  What we did with these shirts showed our varying personalities.  Christina wore hers as a nightgown every night until Dad's return.  Laura cuddled with hers like a blanket, enjoying Dad's smell all night long.  I was the first to lose my polo shirt privilege thanks to the constant questioning of whether or not it was clean.

At the end of Dad's trip, the polo was returned, washed, and worn.  The Post-It became a bookmark.  A trophy.  A reminder.
I love you the most.  Dad.
Of course, he can't love four people the most, but he claims he can.  That means we can all claim Dad loves us the most and we have the note to prove it.  After all, he always says his favorite number is "one-two-three."  As Number One, I think he loves me the most since he says my number first.

Happy Father's Day! 
Dad, I love you the most!
<>< Katie

1 comment:

Dad said...

That's beautiful, Kate.