By Andrea Camarena

Growing up, I remember going to watch my dad's softball games at the park. Sunny days cheering on my all-star dad as he slammed another home run over the fence.

I remember pretending I was an airplane as my dad laid on the living room floor and balanced me in the air on his feet.

I remember him teaching my brother and me to fly kites and never yelled at us when our brand new Easter gifts landed at the top of our neighbor's 20-foot tree.

I remember painting barbeque sauce onto hamburger patties after my dad flipped them on the grill in the summer heat.

I remember pi

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