Tuesday, May 29, 2012
He had his demons. He was so very young when I was born.
His ability to run from what he loved the most is something I've grown to admire. Really.
The older I get, the more I realize that everything I do, I do for him. For his attention, for his love, for some sort of ticket in a time machine that will let me be a little girl again.
A little girl who loved her daddy. A little girl who saw herself in his eyes. And when he left, over and over again, I disappeared.
Like the seas he sailed on, the water rose and engulfed the person I wanted to be. The best sort of person. Only I couldn't shine without him.
Last week he called me.
"Hey, Girl," he said.
"Hey, Pap," I replied.
"I'm real proud of you and these books," he said.
And I was shining.
No matter what, a little girl loves her daddy. Forgives his sins and dances in front of him waiting for him to notice.
I'm 41, not 4... and it doesn't matter. I'm on his shoulders again feeling proud of who he is, damage and all. Wanting him to carry me forever.