In light of the recent father’s day, I have pondered my relationship with my parents. I am officially out of ‘the house’ now. I moved into my apartment just a few short weeks ago. I am no longer under their roof, and thus no longer under their rules. I am free to fly, so as the saying goes.

Growing up, we all seem to reach the age where being with our parents in public is not cool. Of course, it’s in the timeframe when being cool is at the top of the priority list. For me, I believe that time hit around junior high.

In high school, I began to grow up even more. Perhaps that goes without saying. In this time, I wanted to rebel. I wanted to have my own agenda. I wanted to live with fewer rules. I had made up my mind that I knew what was best for me. I, in reflection, knew nothing at the time. The main thing is like many people in high school, I just thought I did. I thought I had all the answers.

Now that I am out of the house, my parents have become more important to me. I suppose it helps that I am relatively close to my home town. For some reason I am closer to my father. I guess I have always been a ‘daddy’s girl. I’m not really sure when it hit me. Suddenly my respect and admiration for my father started growing in baby steps.

I do not speak to my father every day. Sometimes I go two or three weeks without talking to him. This can be especially true if I get busy with work and school. Not talking to him does not mean his importance is somehow less to me.

Looking back, if I think a little deeper, I can see that he has been the one constant in my life. In junior high and high school, I went through cat fights with my friends. Fights like those are quite common while at those ages. He was always there to listen to what I had to say and comfort me. He was also there for me to listen about my latest boy troubles.

In high school, I also began to have various medical issues with the onset of my epilepsy. I cannot count the several nights I spent crying over not possessing the ability to drive. Without knowing if my new medication was working well, driving was considered dangerous. I also felt damaged. He was always there to make the tears stop.

Since coming to college, the bond has only grown. He is the one person that can embarrass me. That’s what happens when I am surrounded by someone who doubles over in laughter at sick humor. I can also realize he is the person with whom I share so many personality traits.

We both like the same music. Certain songs even make me think of him. We both clean things nearly obsessively. We both like the same foods. We both get quiet and pace if something is wrong. We share the same political views. Most importantly, we can read each other’s expressions and actions like books.

My last interaction with my dad brings a smile to my face every time I think about it. I was in his office just outside of town. I was being introduced to some new people he’ll start working with sometime in July. After the pleasantries, I became a piece of art. One by one, I showed off my piercings and tattoo. It’s almost as though, without words, my dad is proud of me. That he accepts the person I am becoming.

I feel so blessed to have someone like this in my life. Though the relationship has changed over the years, he will always be my father. He will always be important to me because he will always be there for me.