Daddy's Little Girl

Seeing this little girl interact with her dad brings back so many memories. Her dad treats her like she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and I used to know how that felt.

I used to be Daddy's little girl. I used to feel like he was my best friend. I used to know how it felt to be the little girl that could do no wrong. He used to be proud of me. That's all in the past, though.

I remember watching him work on a car all hours of the night, a different car every week it seemed, and every project meant something new for me to learn. I never tired of sitting in that garage no matter how frozen my little bare feet were, or how hard it was to keep my sleepy blue eyes open. I knew if I decided to go in and sleep, missing out on the finishing touches he would put on that car, he would be disappointed that I wasn't there to hear him excitedly proclaim, "come see what I did!" and I would run over to him with wild eyes and marvel at the magic, my brain so overwhelmed with the idea that he knew everything about a car there was to know.

I remember sitting next to him at night on the front porch while he shined his boots, feeling like there was no place in the world I would rather be. The only thing that mattered to me was that I got to sit next to him and ask him any question my curious little mind could muster up, and I was sure he would have an answer, always. When I asked, "daddy, how do you get your boots so shiny?" he explained every piece from the kit, opened the polish, passed me a rag, and we shined his boots together. He made me feel capable...like I could do anything I set my mind to.

I remember when I would get hurt, eyes so full to the brim with tears that it was a miracle I didn't let them stream down my cheeks, he would run over to me fast as lightening before those tears even had a chance to start rolling and swoop me up into his arms. He would say, "do I need to call the mailman?" I never understood what he meant but I thought it was the silliest thing I had ever heard. In between giant laughs I would ask him why he would call the mailman, and instead of replying he would tickle me like crazy and keep asking with even more enthusiasm each time, "DO I NEED TO CALL THE MAILMAN?" with the biggest grin on his face. He would do whatever it took to make me laugh. He would do anything he could to keep me from crying, because he knew that to see me cry would break his heart. He would act as foolish as you could imagine if he knew it would make me laugh...and it always did.

No person on this earth could replace him. He was the smartest, the funniest, the most loving, and I truly believed all those things as I'm sure every daddy's girl does.

...and then I grew up.

Those memories are all I have to hold onto now, because who he was then is lost. Who he is now was always somewhere inside him, even when we were on the porch or in the garage or I was safe in his arms laughing hard as ever, and that scares me.

I would give anything to go back to one of those hot summer nights where I would stay up late watching him shine his boots.

My father is the only man who has truly broken my heart.