My Daddy

I miss him ever so much. It was good to be somewhere different to breath in his memory. Memories of him come fast and furious, because of his strength and love, run like a movie in my heart. I remember many a birthday spent trying to be the first one to present him with the perfect gift. I remember the first time I gave him a "bought" present that I thought was far superior to anything I could have ever given him and his look of disappointment, even though he tried to hide it with a hug and a kiss. I remembered the first time I told him that I was not "his little girl". I was, in fact, an independent woman of 21 and wanted to be treated as such. I remember that wonderful face and those loving eyes misting and the very rare stern voice that said I was never ever to say that to him again. I miss him. To him I was the smartest, the prettiest, the cleverest, funniest, the -est of all things because I was the only and thus I must have been perfection. I believed him with the heart of one who was devoted to the one who worked his whole life to provide the best he could to the family he loved so much.