Lunchtime love notes


I know for a fact that I’m a messy person. Anyone who knows me can tell you that. If you give me a drink and snack there’s an 85 percent chance I’ll spill the drink everywhere and be covered in crumbs in a matter of minutes. But you’ll never see me use the napkins from my lunch to clean it up.

For as long as I can remember my dad has packed my lunch. Practically the exact same thing every day for 12 years. (Yeah, my dad packs my lunch. I don’t need your gender roles.) And everyday for 12 years I’ve looked forward to opening my lunch sack and going straight for the napkin.

Depending on the season my napkin color changes. Red for Christmas, green for spring and pink for the rest of the year. The best part about them, though, are the ridiculous fun facts on every single one. Sometimes they have real facts on them such as, “There’s a book called ‘100 Things Men Know About Women’ and there is over 100 blank pages.” But other times they have facts like, “squirrels prefer red convertibles,” which always make me smile. They’re always signed with, “Love ya! Daddy.” They’ve become so popular that I have classes where all the students look forward to reading my napkin every day.

But his facts are not always a joke. Sometimes life goes as wrong as it possibly can and I feel like nothing will ever be okay again. Some people may consider me a daddy’s girl (which I 100 percent am), but my dad is one of my best friends. When I’m on the verge of a full blown breakdown, I can always count on my dad to be there. Even when he can’t follow me around school all day to make sure I don’t pass out, I can always depend on his daily lunch facts. The ‘rough day facts’ will say things like, “10 out of 10 dads will still love their little girls; even when they’re not little girls.”

My dad has always been my pen pal, sending me daily reminders that not everything is going wrong and that sometimes all you need is a ridiculous fun fact to make you smile. I know I still have a year left before I leave for college, but I still worry about who’s going to remind me, “Love ya!” everyday at lunch.

I hope you have a happy birthday, Daddy. You deserve it.