Daddy Dear

No too long ago, I had the same exact experience with two very different people. In each instance, the person I was with was holding my hand and ran their fingers along the back of my hand, tracing the protruding track of my my veins. In each instance, I had a flashback to one of my earliest memories of my father where I did the same thing and understood for the first time how very much older than me he really was.

I think we all have that memory, or most of us.

I have lots of memories of my dad. I can’t even begin to list them all, but every single one of them is a touchstone in my mind, a point in my history where I can hold on and say “This is what I know.”

And today is his birthday, my dad: Scott William Camp III.

Once, a long time ago, he said that I was not only his son but his friend. As recently as tonight, I’ve seen that in action and it has kept me safe and whole.

There are people I love in this world, there are people I admire, and there are people that I need in my life more than anything else.

And then there’s my father…