My first love (or, Daddy’s girl)

I am and always will be a daddy’s girl. His hug is where I feel most safe in the entire world. He is handsome and charming and oh so smart. And he can dance like no other man I have ever danced with.


Seriously, how handsome is he?
He is also a quiet person, shy even. We don’t always talk about the big things. But I know that I’ve made him proud because he has told me, again and again. I know that he believes in me as a person, a wife, a mother. 

I think he knows that I became an attorney because I grew up admiring his work. That I am a liberal because I share his values. That I am a lover of spicy foods because he fed them to me as soon as I started solids. 

I married a man much like my father, handsome, intelligent, quiet, and calm in a storm. Because of my dad, I have my amazing spouse.

My dad has been sick, off and on, since I was 18 years old. Nearly 20 years have passed. I have graduated from college, gone to law school, married, moved to three different states, bought two houses, and had three babies of my own. None of that changes the fact that he is my first love and I am my daddy’s girl, always.

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