One day late, but that just means the holiday is lasting longer, right?

*********************

All through my freshmen year of college, I really wanted to get my nose pierced. Several times I called to make an appointment only to cancel it a few minutes later.

The last week of finals, one of my friends, Molly, and I decided to take to State Street after our journalism final. We walked in and out of shops, talking about the last year, how glad we were to be finished with our journalism class, and speculating on what it would be like to be home for the summer.

Then we saw them.

Magnetic nose rings.

Like me, Molly was a cautious rebel. We both grew up Catholic, both didn’t break rules, and were both tired of ourselves for being so darn good.

We bought them, we put them on, and we felt like new women.

When we got back to our dorm, guys who never gave us a second glance, started talking to us. At the time, we assumed it was the nose rings, but looking back, I think we walked with a newfound confidence that only a magnetic cubic zirconia inserted into your nostril can give you.

The next day, my Dad came to pick me up from college.

My Dad, the most conservative person alive, never lost his cool when he saw the nose ring. “Did that hurt?” He asked staring at the shiny stone nestled into the dimple of my nostril.

“Not at all” I answered and then quickly changed the subject.

He didn’t say much else about it but I quickly realized that he wasn’t making eye contact. His eyes never traveled above my be-dazzled nose. We finished packing the room and he was quieter than usual.

“Are you SURE that didn’t hurt? It really looks like it hurt.” He asked again and again.

“Nope. Not at all. Isn’t it cute?” I would reply.

We spent the whole day together with him quietly staring at my nose and me telling him about my last semester.

He never got mad.

He never lost his cool.

He just couldn’t stop staring at my nose.

On our last ride up the elevator to my dorm room, he asked again. “Kimberly, that had to hurt. How did it not hurt?”

“Dad, it didn’t hurt because it’s fake. It’s magnetic.”

He collapsed into the wall of the elevator and pulled his hand across his forehead with an exaggerated “Phew!”

And without missing a beat, straightened up and said “I have an idea; Let’s give your Mother a little scare when we get home…”

****************************

It’s a little late, but Happy Father’s Day to all of the Dads out there.

A big special Happy Father’s Day to my Dad. We won’t be celebrating until next weekend when we go for the Gold at the YMCA Triathlon (we are defending champs in the relay division), but let the celebrations begin early and end late. You deserve more than just one day, Dad.

Love,

Your Brown Eyed Girl

Kimberly


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