The above slideshow depicts various pictures from a recent trip my dad and younger sister, Sara, made to visit me (and James Taylor and Carole King) in Nashville. That week with my dad made me feel so adult: I chose the restaurants and activities, made reservations and suggested faster routes, I hosted for a few days and then dropped them off at the airport. But somehow despite the fact I’m 23 years old, have a job and an apartment, bills to pay, groceries to buy, a gym membership I try to make use of, whenever my dad comes to town, I am just his daughter again. This adult life I now lead relaxes. I stop worrying, hand the car keys over and while I may give directions, I ride in the passenger seat.
I take for granted this trust I have in my father. The comfort and safety he brings with a visit or even a phone call. I’m not sure about many things in my life right now–the twenty-somethings is a strange place to be–but how thankful I am to have a father who I never have to question will be a steady presence in my life.
In twenty years I may be in yet another state, settled into a career or a family, but when my dad comes to visit, I have no doubt I’ll hand him my car keys.