I’m telling Mother about a new girl in school，and she suddenly looks up and says，“Who’re your two best friends？” I’m not sure what to say.I’ve been friends with Jill since I was three or so，and I really like Jaime，a friend in kindergarten.“Well，what about Karen and Cindy？” She seems upset，like I hurt her feelings.“But they’re my sisters.” “Yes，but they can still be your best friends.Friends may come and go，but your sisters will always be there for you.”

At the time，the idea of my two sisters being my closest friends seemed strange to me.We fought all the time over toys，food and attention.How could my sisters be my best friends？They weren’t the same age as I．We all had our own friends in school.But my mother never let the three of us forget it：Sisters are lifelong friends.Her wish was to give us something that she never had.Growing up an only child，she longed for siblings (兄弟姐妹)．When she gave birth to three daughters，the fulfillment of her dream had only just begun.She’d given us each a gift and she wanted to make sure we did not take that gift for granted.She’d frequently tell us how lucky we were.She never showed favoritism to one daughter over the other.And when we were teenagers，Mom always punished us equally.

We didn’t always get along beautifully and fought just like any other siblings.But we realized that our mother was right.Today I share things with my sisters that I do with no one else.My sister Cindy and I ran the New York City Marathon together，side－by－side，even holding hands when we crossed the finish line.When my sister Karen got married，I was her maid of honor.The three of us trust each other with our greatest secrets.

It was twenty－three years ago that my mother first asked me who my two best friends were.Today she doesn’t have to.She already knows.

You’ll soon be 84 years old, Dad, and you and I will have had 55 Father’s Days together.

You know, there was a time when we were not only separated by the generation gap but completely polarized (对立) by it. Split by: age and experience, opinions, hairstyles, cosmetics, clothing and boys.

The Father-Daughter Duel（冲突） of‘54 shifted into high gear（白热化） when you taught me to drive the old Dodge and I decided I would drive the‘54 Chevy whether you liked it or not. The police officer who accompanied me home after you reported the Chevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand father-daughter politics and too old to have much tolerance for a 16-year-old. You were so decent about it, Dad, and I think that was probably what made it the worst night of my life.

Our relationship improved greatly when I had babies. I didn’t know what to expect of you and Mom as grandparents but I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Those babies adored you then just as they adore you now.

I suppose I saw our relationship as aging together, rather like a fine wine. But the oddest thing happened last week. I was at a stop sign and I watched as you turned the corner in your car. It didn’t immediately occur to me that it was you because the man driving looked so elderly and frail behind the wheel of that huge car. It was rather like a slap in the face delivered from out of nowhere. Perhaps I saw your age for the first time that day.

Fifty years ago this spring, we planted kohlrabi together in a garden in Charles City, Iowa.

This week, we’ll plant kohlrabi together again, perhaps for the last time but I hope not. I don’t understand why planting kohlrabi with you is so important to me but it is. I don’t even like kohlrabi... but I like planting it with you.

Honoring a father on Father’ s Day is about more than a dad who brings home a paycheck, shares a dinner table, and attends school graduation and weddings. It’s more about unconditionally loving children who are stubborn, who know everything and won’t listen to anyone. It’s about loving someone more than words can say, and wishing that it never had to end.

I love you, Dad.