I love this picture. It is authentically Dad. Stretched out on the floor. Hot, sweaty, and tired from work.
Note the bedroom walls and closet door: Not many men would be secure enough to let their ambitiously creative wife paint their bedroom girly pink.
What this picture doesn’t show but reminds me of is the many times I have seen my dad exactly in this same pose but opening his arms for me to come and snuggle. I remember his smell, his warmth, how he would pat my head.
I was always glad when he came home. He loved me. There was never a time when I didn't know that.