It’s midnight, so technically it’s not Father’s Day anymore. But I’m still thinking of my dad, and his smile, and how he magically knows how to do everything, from baiting a hook to building a miniature dollhouse, from frying Oreos to rebuilding a 1955 Cameo, and how he worries about me, in his quiet way, and how he beams when all his babies are nearby, and how he’s changed, for the better, and how he’s become stronger and younger somehow, and how much I love him. That’s all.