What does it mean to be a dad?

Is it all the books I’ve read at bedtime?

Is it adventures I lead to wild places near and far?

Is it the lessons I teach about balancing on two wheels?

Is it the bandaids I apply to skinned knees and scrapped palms?

The hands I hold and tears I dry when the world seems awry?

The dark afternoons and evenings helping with homework or playing games or singing songs?

The food I buy, the meals I cook, the dishes I wash, the clothes I clean, the miles I drive … ?

The sacrifices I made and austerity I endure for the sake of your shiny, happy futures … ?

Will you remember the good times, the fun times, the ones filled with joy and laughter and love? Will you remember the lessons I’ve tried to teach you? And will you tell your own children some day that I may not have been perfect, but I was a good dad?