It was grueling, laborious work. Sounding out the vowels individually and then slowly blending them together; word after word, page after page. He sat there with me, wanting to help, but unwilling to do it for me. Finally I did it, I read a whole page of a chapter book, own my own. He was there right beside me, so proud when I finished.
A few short years later, I remember him peering into my bedroom from the hall. I should have been sleeping hours ago, but hadn't been able to put the book down. He'd give me that look that said lights out now. He described it as a wonderful problem.
Thank you Dad for being more willing to help but not doing it for me. Happy Father's Day.