My father loved to talk. My life was often quite boring. My mother was so busy working and trying to support us that she had little energy for anything else. She certainly did not have the time to spend talking to me about life, love, and food. Sadly she spent most of her time talking about my homework, my required duties such as washing all the dishes everyday, buying milk and eggs, doing the laundry every Saturday morning and going to church every Sunday morning. It was so boring. Then suddenly without warning my father would come to visit us; sometimes if I was lucky he would live with us for a few days or weeks.

Dad was a breath of fresh air. He had so many stories. Most of them were quite entertaining and rather shocking for a young person to digest. He boasted about the famous people he knew, his latest adventures, his new recipes not just things to eat but new recipes on how to live.

Dad never asked me how I was doing. He was too busy telling me about himself. At first I found that to be frustrating. I wanted to tell him about things that were going on in my life, but I realized he did not know how to listen. So instead I learned to sit back and just listen to him.

Dad was so much fun. He never told me to do my errands or do my homework. Instead he would say, "Tina, you need to enjoy life. God gave you this life to enjoy don't waste it. You should go out in the sun and feel his love." Ofcourse I thought this was great. I closed my school books gladly and we were off to enjoy the beach or take one of those famous long walks of his. He would hold my hand and would sing the song "hand in hand over melody grand walking my baby back home.."

We would have a delightful time. Then a panic look would overcome him and he would say something like "Tina, what have we done, you are going to be in so much trouble."

We would rush home, hide our dirty beach towels and swim suits, spread my school books all over the kitchen table minutes before my mom came home from work. She would ask me how my day was and trying not to laugh I would tell her I had been very busy. Looking at all the school work in front of her she assumed I had been doing my homework.

My mother would leave the kitchen and my Dad and I would have a good laugh. Often I was busted when she found a trail of sand from my bedroom to the bathroom.

Thanks to my Dad I learned to really take the time to enjoy life. Whenever I go to the beach or take a long walk I think of him and I smile. Funny thing is I am puzzled why he chose not to visit me more often or live with us full time. I really adored him.