I love my father.
When I was a little, bitty girl, nothing made me feel safer than that he was somewhere nearby, ready to spring into action should the need arise. But, alas, it seldom did, at least for me. I was a pretty straight arrow. (We won’t discuss my siblings.) But then my father also travelled for work A LOT!!!!! He missed birthdays, and those I remember keenly, though, I’m not sure at all if he does. We’ve never discussed it, and, frankly, I wouldn’t want to hurt him by asking.
When I was a child my father was the tallest, strongest, most handsome man alive. I remember all of this distinctly. He was my champion, and he would and could slay any dragon threatening harm. Continue reading