Fathers are the stems and spines that hold everything upright when we are growing up. They build, they provide, they go through report forms and scold when you drop out of the top ten. Then you get admitted into Uni and they forget that scolding and boast to their friends about your achievements. You are their little and they love you, but rarely will you ever hear them say those words.

My father is this typical Kenyan father that provides, not out of duty but love. I cannot recall him ever mouthing those words but I do not doubt his love for me, in fact I swim in it. Yes, even though his stern face has made sure no one in the estate will ever dare make a pass at me. Another of those things that fathers do for love.

I feel though, that while my siblings and I said thank you when Dad got us stuff, I have never just set out to appreciate the love Dad has showered me. I have been thinking that maybe it is about time I did.

Dad is always catering to our needs, I bet it would feel nice to be catered to. I am thinking of us going to dinner, just the two of us. Someplace nice and understated, perhaps with a little music. Mother says he likes to dance so I am tempted to test out that theory. Of course I know, I might have to fight about sorting the bill- Dad is used to taking care of people and not the other way round.

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