F is for Fego

Continuing along today with the April A-Z Blog Challenge and my travel adventures. Our family moved to England when I was just shy of 13 and spent the next 6 years across the pond. This month, as part of an A-Z blogging challenge. I am reflecting on the time I spent overseas during my teens.

F is for Fego

I'm hitting pause on the travel button today and we're hanging out around home for today's post. If you read letter A, you know my family moved to England when I was just about to turn 13. And while we had many adventures traveling outside of England, I had plenty of memories from just living my life in my new hometown. The summer before my Senior year ,4 years after I had settled into this town, I got my first job at a restaurant on the local high street. Sure I had babysat plenty but I consider waitressing at Fegos my first real job, which is pretty significant. 

I loved that restaurant. It sat right in the middle of the high street (main town road) and was a sweet little breakfast and lunch spot with the tastiest menu and best customers. I became quick friends with the other waiters and waitresses and while I  had friends that were from all over the world, these were some of my first local friends. 

I served full English breakfasts on plates so hot they left marks on my forearms. I served paninis with bacon that to my American eyes looked an awful lot like country ham. I entertained customers with my American accent or some days tried out my British accent to see if I could pass as a local. I knocked over a jar full of salt and a regular couple clapped and then reminded me of it every time they saw me working from that day forward. I beamed when my parents would come to visit me for brunch and bring my dad his usual order of a cappuccino, milk shake and fresh squeezed orange juice with whatever he ordered. I ate lunch on my break, testing out all the things on the menu. (It's a good sign when you still eat the food at the restaurant you serve at). I bussed tables and rolled silverware. I honed my shorthand skills on my notepad while taking orders. 

I loved my tiny cafe in my tiny town and still think about the days I spent growing up inside those 4 walls. 

Dads and Daughters

There's something special between dads and their daughters. I know I've spent a lot of time here talking about my mom but dad needed his own post too. I'm the luckiest when it comes to dads. He's always been my biggest fan and supporter. Has always told me I can do and be anything I want. He never makes me feel like he's anything less than proud of me. He always makes me feel loved. And I know no matter what he'll be there for me. 

My car battery died once and luckily I had someone close by that I was able to call to help me out because I did not have jumper cables in my car. And I remember, they asked me what I would have done if they couldn't have come and I said, without a second thought, I would have called my dad. It should be noted that my dad was living an hours drive from me at the time and my friend was clearly confused but I added, it wouldn't matter that he's an hour away or if he was doing something. If I called and said I needed help, he would find a way to help me. And that is my dad. He loves his girls with everything he has. 

So on the wedding day, we knew seeing me in my dress for the first time was a moment that needed to be captured. My sister had done something similar and all of us bridesmaids had pressed our noses to the windows to catch a glimpse of the precious moment. So I wanted that same moment with him. 

And it was just as sweet and special as I had imagined it would be. 

And in that moment, 

I was reminded just how amazing my dad is. How much he loves me. How special he thinks I am. 

I have an unwavering understanding that he is proud of the woman I've grown into. Proud of the choices I've made, including the man I married.

And even though, I'm not so little anymore, and a grown-up daughter is a bit different than a little one, he is still all the things I count on him to be. He is still the dad that would carry me in from the car after I fell asleep. The dad who taught me all the best music and dance moves to go with them. Seriously, I can sing all the words to all the classics. The dad who taught me to be brave, even when I didn't feel like it. 

The dad who took our family on our greatest adventures. Who led us into unknown things, and assured us it was going to be amazing. And it was. 

He's still the dad I can call at anytime, and I know he will always answer the phone no matter what. He's the dad I can rely on for help, support, encouragement and love every day of the week.

Some people may think my dad missed out on something because he has two girls and no boys. But the thing I know to be true is that my dad was absolutely 100% made to be a girl dad. He is the absolutely best at it. There is something special about dads and their daughters. It can't always be put into words, but it's there between them forever. 

I love you dad! HSK

This month I am linking up with "Two Writing Teachers" for a slice of life, daily writing challenge.