Thursday, December 13, 2007

Daughter

My whole life, I have known my father, and he has always been there for me. Looking back on the years of my life, I realized that there is something more than just a man who leaves for work early in the morning, and who comes home around six, just in time for dinner. There is a kind, gentle teacher behind the hard­-working man that I call dad. Throughout my whole sixteen years of existence, my dad has tried to teach me everything he can, trying to fill me with the knowledge that I will need in order to succeed in life. Then, I begin to think, and soon, I begin to remember my past.


The day was early, and the sun had not yet come out of the early morning fog. A man sat there, soaking in the clean morning air, and with a sigh, he looked down at the young girl lying in his lap. He longed to reach out to her, longing to find a way to communicate, but there was a communication barrier, preventing a conversation. She had not yet learned to speak, and so, instead, they sat in silence, the girl his lap, and the man on the porch step, listening to the morning sounds of the day that brought out new life.


Sprinting up the street, the girl ran at top speed, trying to outrun her younger brother who was just a few strides behind her. Quickly cutting left, the girl looked back over her shoulder just in time to see the football soaring in her direction. Reaching out her hands, stretching her legs that one last leap, she caught the airborne football. Landing heavily from the awkward catch, the girl just had enough time to sprint up the rest of the way, past her brother, to get the touchdown she deserved. With a smile on his face, the man who had thrown the football walked up slowly to where the girl had caught the ball, and she met him there with an embrace, thanking him for the good pass. Then with a smile, she took back the ball that she had just placed in his hands, and threw it to the unhappy brother that had just been scored on.


Sitting on her bed, crying softly, the girl was ashamed of herself. She had never felt so guilty in her whole life. How was she supposed to know a simple game of truth or dare could go so wrong? All she did was kiss a guy on the cheek, why was that so bad? Deep inside though, she knew it was bad, which was why she felt as guilty as she did. The man standing in the room next to her said nothing; all he did was look at the picture that he held between his hands. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he placed the picture frame on the bed next to the crying girl, and left the room without a word. With one look at the girl in the frame, realizing it was a younger version of herself; the girl sitting on the bed began to cry harder, for some reason feeling even guiltier than before.
“How will they ever forgive me?” the girl whimpered quietly to herself. “There is no way that they will ever love me again, after what I did.”
However, a few minutes later, the tall, dark man reappeared in the room to see how the crying girl was. He realized that she was still sitting there, clutching tightly to the picture he had left lying on her bed.
“Shelli,” he reassured her in a calming and relaxing voice, “there is no way that I could ever love you less. Sometimes,” he continued, “you just need to think before you act.”
Nodding with understanding, the still crying girl put the picture down so she could give the man a hug, wishing she could go back in time, but thankful for the understanding that the man showed towards her. Through more tears and more hugs, the father spoke with his daughter for more than an hour, and the girl listened, thanking God for such a wonderful role model, and such an understanding friend in her life.


February 21st, 10 p.m., she sat on the couch, pondering the words that just wouldn’t come. Wondering what to say and how to say it, she sat there tapping her pen against the pad of paper that had only one word written on it so far, ‘Dad’. However, staring at the page, with one last glance at the word writing neatly on the top, she began to write, and as she did, the words began to flow like a river, rushing towards the emotion and feeling that they expressed.
Dad

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
I know that to be true
But yet I feel the same way
When I’m close and hugging you

Your thoughtful words and well picked talks
Seems to give us something to say
Even though I may be aloof to some
They touch my heart in every way

Without you dad there’d be no me
And we couldn’t share our thoughts
You couldn’t guide me through my life
And I couldn’t love you lots

So thank you for you guidance
Your ever constant prayer
The love that reaches in me
To let me know you’re there

On your Happy Birthday
Let there be absence not
And if our hearts grow fonder
Make sure it’s by a lot.

She knew these words would do, and that he too would see, and realize the emotion put into the poem written for his birthday. It was with that knowledge that she rewrote it on a card, satisfied with her work, and went to bed.


Coming back to reality, I remember all I wrote. I see my father holding my hand and telling me how much he loves me, and how desperately he wants to reach me on a level that we can both understand. Now, I finally realize how much he truly does love me, and how much he has loved me for my entire life. There has never been a better teacher, father, and friend for me in my life than the man that I call dad, which is why I am proud to say that I am, and forever will be, his daughter.

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