Memories... of love
One of my earliest memories of my dad is when we were playing in a lake. He was right behind me, holding my hands as I kicked and played in the water. If I wobbled, he was there to hold me up. If I fell, he was there to help me. If I stepped away, he would let me go, but was always there to support me. Love connected us and allowed me to take on the world, knowing that he will be right behind me - just like he did was I was little.