Dad

When I was a kid, my father traveled a lot for work. By a lot I mean sometimes he was gone for three weeks out of a month. But when he was home, he was home.

I know when he came home from those trips that he was jet-lagged and worn out. I'm sure that there were a lot of things he might have loved to do to relax. Perhaps he would have watched more football games, become more proficient at golf or even gone hunting. But he didn't. Instead, every Saturday he'd give my mom a slip of paper for her to jot down what she needed done. He called it his "Honey Do" list. When he finished his list, he'd come back and ask her what else he could do.

Dad did all the yucky chores around the house too. He took out the garbage, scrubbed the tub and toilets and mowed the lawn. Then, every night, he sit and rub Mom's feet as they watched the news.

Even those times when Mom fusses at Dad a bit, I think she knows just how lucky she is to have him. I know I was blessed to have him as a Dad. He's a great example of what a good husband should be.