I was about to ride a plane by myself for the first time. I was eighteen or so, but not used to being alone. Not to say I wasn’t somewhat self-sufficient. I could follow a lead car in a six-hour caravaning trip like nobody’s business. However, I did not like airports much. But I needed to get back home in time for a fiddle camp, so I was taking a plane.
My dad was with me all through the airport. As usual, a display of fairy cards had caught my eye. My dad noticed the one I especially liked, and, unbeknownst to me, he went back later and bought it for me. The card showed up on my birthday that following winter.
Love is in the little things. My dad is far from perfect. He can be a bit of a workaholic at times. Other times he can be passive. And yet other times he can be a bit too helpful when I really need my space. But he understands that love is in the little things. There are few things I love more than having my likes and dislikes noticed. I like when people notice the little things. It means they’re paying attention.