My StepDad took me on a two hour drive today in a bid to get up my 25 logbook hours. He complained the whole time. He whinged and whined and told me it was like pulling his eyeballs out with a needle.
When we got home, I laughed. He’d sat in a car, bored out of hs senses, for two hours. He’d done it begrudgingly, but he’d done it. He’d done it for me.
We’re not close, and our conversations usually revolve around “Hey maggot face”, “What’s up dogshit?”, but it’s a relationship I woldn’t change for the world. Short of having my real father, he’s the best thing I could have asked for, and I thought I’d take a moment out to think about just how grateful I am for what he’s given up for me over the years.
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