I doodle a lot.

And one day my dad asked me, “Aren’t stars your favorite shape?”

Surprised, I said “Yeah!”

And he simply replied, “I notice you draw stars in your notebook and all over pieces of paper.”

And that was that.

The conversation probably just tapered off and we went back to what we were doing.

My father probably has no recollection of this moment because he has the memory of an ant.

But I remember.

Because I remember the feeling of being noticed by someone. (And also because I have the memory of a public library.)

People want to be known and understood and seen.

I want that.

I want the details of my heart to be cared for. And it felt good to know that my dad took the time to notice something so small about me.

He noticed a moment that could have been easily missed.

He knows just about everything about me and chose to see more.

And that’s the way I want my heart to be held. And how I hope to hold someone else’s.

I hope to know him well, but notice more.

I want to care about his mundane moments and trivial details.

So, thanks Daddy for not just knowing me but for noticing me! Thanks for teaching me to see the stars in someone’s notebook.

Love,

Amber