It was 15 minutes until the graduation was set to begin, and I was saving him a seat.
I started telling myself maybe I should have reminded him yesterday when I still hadn’t heard from him, though, even though it is unlike him to forget this kind of thing.
My daughter, Paige, was graduating from 8th grade, and my dad has always had a closeness with her.
He values a girl who isn’t afraid to learn how to give an animal a shot,
or how to shoot a crossbow.
The presents he gives her always require supervision.
I think he enjoys finally having a granddaughter who likes the outdoors and things like holding a nail gun.
(Her eyes were a little TOO sparkly with that specific lesson, actually)
The other three girls liked playing dress up, and were not fond of dirt on their hands.
Meanwhile, Paige was out back in a loin cloth with a homemade spear like Mowgli.
I had just set out to go look in the parking lot of the school in case he was lost when I got the text message saying that at first he had thought the graduation was later in the day.
He had thought he’d have time to go home from the ranch where he spends most of his time, but had realized the graduation was sooner than he originally thought, and he was letting me know he was on the way.
He said he was just warning me, though, that he hadn’t had a chance to change.
There would be dirt on his pants and his boots. He’d been on the excavator.
He commented that we might not want to be seen with a “dirty old handyman,”
and punctuated the message with a smile emoji.
I told him we didn’t care what he was wearing at all.
We were just so glad he was coming.
He showed up in a shirt much cleaner than the image he had sold me, and when I commented on that, he told me with a smile that he had stopped at the hardware store, bought a new shirt there, and had taken it into their bathroom to change.
I put my arms around him, comforted by the familiar sight of him:
Work boots and suspenders, a hat, several pens and pencils for writing down measurements of this or that in one pocket, and smelling of a perfectly familiar mixture of sawdust, metal, oil, and hay.
He clapped with pride at Paige being called for the honor roll.
I’m sure he was dreaming up some other obscure thing he could teach her, or a mission he could take her on this summer, now that she was free.
I thought about him a lot, actually, as he sat there.
He is many things: a rancher, a worker, an artist, a musician, a lover of animals and also the feeling of being free.
He loves being alone on horseback out overlooking the ocean, where no one can reach him.
He texts me pictures sometimes of his views overlooking ocean cliffs and wilderness from behind a horse’s mane; The only human for miles, I’m sure.
I’ve made comments about maybe buying him an AirTag now that he is getting older,
because sometimes his solo adventures kind of worry me,
But, I can count on him coming out from the ranch he loves without fail for one thing,
and that is any call or invitation by his family.
My dad has shown up for countless things in my life.
He can create and build absolutely anything.
His skin tells the tale of a life lived outside.
His hands are rough, and you can tell by the way he walks that his back and feet ache.
But he has come to help me fix sewage issues. He has come to build decks, and sheds, and paddocks, and covers from the rain.
He has come to haul trash and lend money. He gives meaning to the words, “Let me know if you need anything,” because he means it.
A lifetime of being his daughter has taught me the meaning of consistency.
He did not grow up with a robust support system.
He’s been a rancher since birth, raised where just about all there is are horses and tumbleweeds.
He kept to himself then, too, in order to avoid whoopings, and he learned skills from the independence the way you do when you’re forced to.
I truly believe there is nothing he cannot do, which makes it even more meaningful when the thing he chooses to do has something to do with me.
I snapped a picture of Paige and him standing together at the graduation that day.
It’s the first time I realized how alike they look, and I hope she carries him on the inside the same way.
Maybe it’s the sparkle in their eyes that looks like they plot mischief together.
(After all, he is the reason we ended up raising a calf in the back yard of our duplex, and why my garage window screen was slashed by a buck knife, followed by an emergency lesson on rescreening things)
Two weeks after Paige’s graduation, my nephew graduated from college.
His school is 6 hours away.
My dad drove down and back for that graduation on the very same day just to make it back home to his dog, because he gets nervous when my dad isn’t with him.
To know the heart of a person, watch how they treat a dog.
This method is fail-proof.
That’s who my dad is: The kind that drives 12 hours round trip for the good of a dog and his humans.
The kind that shows up in the crowd no matter what else he could be doing.
Present, predictable, wise, and faithful.
It took me until adulthood to realize all the ways I celebrate having him as a father.
His example of just showing up, no matter what, is one of the biggest things that has shaped what real love means to me.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
