My step-father was “Big Antoine” until one day I felt left out and I just wanted a dad. Little old me just knew it worked that way. My brothers and sisters had parents and I just had mom. My step-father has many faults but not being a dad to his children has never been one.
I’m not biologically his daughter but he’s cleaned my boo boos, scraped knees and rushed me to the hospital on numerous occasions. He’s sent me off on the first day of school, attended cheer-leading games (even though I was bad at it). We’ve been crammed in the car for family vacations. We cried tears of joy for college graduation. He taught me to value myself and that never let where I’ve been stand in the way of where I need to go. He’s taught me that we’re all flawed but we all need accepting too. He taught me that perfect is overrated and if you keep trying at love that maybe you’ll eventually get it right.
He’s taught me to value moments and not things because things can be gone in an instant. Strength to stand tall even when I feel the world crashing down. I don’t even call him step-dad.I confuse people and introduce him as my dad. A father isn’t someone who steps up when it’s convenient or when he feels obligated but when he wants to.
He’s been rewarded with smiles and moments and tears of joy. He’s seen me fall (even before I could walk I was falling. In fact I fell down the stairs in a walker and landed on my feet. I didn’t even cry. That’s when they discovered my bravery.) He pushed me to go further than I’ve ever gone. I wouldn’t be half the woman I am today without him. Him and my mom make a good team and a perfectly flawed yet intelligent young woman.