Daddy's Little Girl

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!  I feel your spirit every day, and I know you were beside Mom and Danny in the audience last week as my made my "debut" as a tap dancer. Today, as I honor your fifty four years of being my father, many memories rush my brain.

Standing on your feet while you sat, holding my hands in your firm grasp so I wouldn't fall as I played "circus girl"-- reaching as far back as my three-year-old body would allow, twirling from side to side as  you added the finishing touch to my performance -- "Ta-da!"

Again, standing on your feet, this time as your dance partner. Try as you may, I never did get the hang of your quirky, jazzy rhythm, but I sure did love practicing.

Handing me a bouquet of roses following my high school performance in "My Three Angels," where I was required to faint and later, you told me, you wanted to rush up there and wake me up.

Fast forward about 30+ years, where I sat, reading to a group of avid listeners, all white haired, all sitting in wheel chairs, you among them.  You may not have been able to follow the stories, but always, you were my biggest supporter. Smiling with pride, clapping when you could, and always a "nice job, sweetheart," even when the words became too soft to hear.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.  You were the best.