I was a daddy’s girl growing up. I thought my father could do just about everything. I still do. 😊
When I was 4, my dad’s head was as big as the world! I rode on his shoulders, clasping his forehead with my tiny hands and laughing as we ran through the grass.
Together we were taller than God.
My dad held my red Schwinn bike as I balanced my first solo trip, and ran alongside before letting me go to pedal into a new world.
I remember whisker rubs and “serious talks” and standing on his feet to dance around the kitchen.
He tied my ice skates double-tight, and there was always love- large and raw and imperfect.
When I prowl through all the prayers in my heart, and in certain photographs in a special kind of light, I can see my dad’s face inside my own, saying “Stick with me kid!”