27 letters for 27 years: Dear Dad

Dearest Dad –

I’m honestly so excited to go to the Braves game with you in just a few weeks. Because the idea of walking alongside you into a stadium, sitting next to you as we both digest and comment on this game, maybe while sharing a Minute Maid Frozen Lemonade — the idea of it all just makes me feel like your middle daughter. It makes me feel like I’m occupying the space that only I can occupy in your life, and you mine. Nothing reminds me more of my daughter-ness and my me-ness more than going to a Braves game with you.

I’m not sure why I decided to open my letter with that, but it was top of mind, and the picture I just painted felt so sweet and tender to me.

It makes me think — how special is it that even as a now 27-year-old, I can still feel like a daughter with you? When I brought my friends down to the beach (which, they loved you, just so you know :)), you and Mom told the story of how you two met (once again). And Mom said, “I felt cared for by Blair. He takes care of those he loves.” And she’s 100% right.

You hang my shelves; you do my taxes (I really should learn); you move me again and again; you set me up for financial success; you take me back to that little Swiss village that we all so love; you try to connect me with people to help my career; and I’m pretty sure you keep an eye out for NextDoor notifications in my neighborhood.

And as much as I sometimes buck at it (I’m 27 for goodness sake! I can take care of myself, gosh darnit!), sometimes, I need to let myself be cared for. I need to let myself be a daughter.

So thank you, Dad, for always keeping your father arms wide open. Your love has shepherded me, grown me, challenged me, and sent me.

I’m so lucky to have a Dad who wants to go with his 27-year-old daughter to Braves games, hear what’s going on in her life, and maybe share a Frozen Lemonade.

Love you, Dad.

McKenzie