Today was Father's Day and it was Sunday. The amount of families out together was something beautiful to see. In the morning while walking around Noe Valley, I caught a glimpse of a Father trying to teach his daughter how to ride a bike without training wheels. Down at the wharf, a Father was teaching his sun how to cook the hot dogs to then sell to customers for lunch. A little boy sat next to his dad on the ferry ride back from Sausolito and answered every single one of the boy's hundreds of questions he was asking about the water and the boat (probably about three or four years old.) And there were probably many more magical moments my eye simply could not see. 

And though I could not be with my own Father today, it warmed my heart to see so many out and about enjoying San Francisco with their loved ones. As I was biking across the Golden Gate bridge with my husband, I could not help but think about bridge resembling a father's journey. I thought about the difficult hills and my legs pushing against the wind and then I thought about my dad giving me a soft push from behind like that wind rolling behind my back. That small push in the Marshall Elementary School parking lot when I was learning to ride without training wheels, or that small push to be a better person, or to practice more or be patient with myself. Like a bridge, my dad has always given me the ability to reach for my goals as I begin pedaling to the other side but also encouraging me to stop, look at the waters and the sailboats passing by and realize that sometimes pedaling for hours is no good either-because you miss the view along the way. 

Arms rising strong and high cheering for me in moments of happiness and wrapping his arms around me in moments of sadness-such patience and solidarity he has that he is that barrier that cannot be broken, that steadfast pillar of whimsical wisdom rising up to meet the clouds above him. He is the beautiful view of the water but also the bright red paint of that bridge-both a calming force and resilient role-model. 

As we rode our way into the small town of Sausolito, the sun shone brightly as we walked in and out of colorful shops and enjoyed a delicious ice cream as we gazed upon the hundreds of houses tucked above the hills. This town was the definition of whimsy-carefree strangers, winding roads and beautiful houses by the sea. There is something about being so close to the sea and being able to look out across the waters gazing upon the business of the city while you yourself are enjoying such calm. 

A ferry ride took us back as we stopped at Angel Island to pick up folks and the sun began to diminish as we made our way back to the wharf of San Francisco. Legs feeling a bit like spaghetti, we biked back to the original bike depot to drop off our helmets and our bikes and then made our way to an authentic Korean BBQ place-I have never seen my husband so happy. food is the whimsy of his soul. More families looked like they were gathering to share a meal with their father on this day. 

And so today we honor those fathers out there or perhaps those who have gone too quickly or perhaps even those who have acted like fathers in the absence of, and we remember that image of the Golden Gate Bridge and their strong hearts as they continue to lift us over the harbor and towards the clouds-urging us to find the best versions of ourselves amongst the fog of the world.