When I was growing up, it was my dad who greeted me at the end of a school day. Who wiped my tears when I scraped my knee, or later, when I despaired of finding a boyfriend.
He always told me I could do and be anything I wanted. He was an involved dad before it was as common as it is today.
Because of him, I took it for granted that my husband would be an equal partner in raising children and providing for them. I certainly took for granted that I would have a demanding, fulfilling career to balance with the very important job of mothering.
Thanks, Dad. I love you.