There are many languages of love.  In fact, there’s a book on the five different languages of love.  I haven’t read the book, but knowing it even exists has illuminated the idea that people express love in different ways.  My dad loves by doing.

Here’s why I love my dad.  

My parents had an extra chair at The Cottage and I am in need of a chair, so, voila! I get the extra chair. Yay!  It’s from Ikea, so it collapses and comes apart which is perfect since I need to transport it from Canada, to Buffalo, to Queens.  

So, I arrive at my parents place in Grimsby, Ontario and find it already collapsed and ready for transport.  It crosses the border, then accompanies me on my 9.5 hour drive (ugh, the misery of traffic, you don’t even know – okay, I’m sure you do) to Queens.  I unpack my old/new-to-me chair and find this:


My dad has put all the hardware into a baggie, inserted whatever hard wear he could back into it’s proper place, affixed it with some nice rubber-bands, found me an Allen wrench that will work, and drew me a chart.


Aaaand he gave me step by step instructions.  My dad loves by doing.  He’s honestly one of the best fathers a girl could hope for. Not just because he gives me things but because he took the time to make sure I had everything I needed to get this chair together with the smallest amount of stress possible.  He’s awesome.  I ❤ him.