My father and I have a special bond that only a father and daughter could share. Iím Daddyís little girl.
My mother told me that when I was born, my dad would brag to his shift mates about his beautiful baby girl. Dadís best friend and partner, Uncle Johnny, said I was the apple of my fatherís eye. A precious bundle that was to be handled with care.
I can remember me in my sweet pea night gown crawling around the dining room table with Dad following on all fours. At least, I think I remember, could be, Iíve heard this story so many times that I have envisioned it as a memory. Whatever, it makes me smile.
Then there were the times I wanted to go with Dad, it didnít matter where, as long as I was with him. Heíd patiently wait for Mom to dress me. Out the door weíd go. I remember one time when I was around four years old, Dad was getting ready to leave, and I wanted to go with him. So mom got me ready, and I grabbed hold of his hand, then out the door we went. Straight down to the end of our sidewalk to the mailbox to get the mail, then back to the house. I was one mad little girl, but I can recall the smile Dadís face held that he pulled one over on me.
I had my first driving lessons at the age of four. Iíd sit in his lap and steer the wheel of his Porsche, all the while looking at everything but where I was going. Those were the days.
My first big girl bike was purple and pink. It had streamers from the handlebars and a banana seat with flowers that matched the colors of the bike. I can remember the day I got it, it was my sixth birthday, a beautiful Autumn day. Mom and Dad couldnít wait till it was time to give me my present, I guess they knew Iíd love it, and I did. Dad had went out and bought a few accessories, a bell and basket, he thought was a must for his little girl that Mom didnít even know about. What a day! Definitely a memory I will cherish the rest of my life.
I was a little angel, if you could believe my Uncle Johnny. I never did anything wrong according to him. Which is kind of funny when I think about his analogy of me. Seems to me, I spent a lot of time taking a time out, sitting on the couch until I was told it was ok to get up. To a kid timeout time seems like forever, when in actuality it was probably no more then ten minutes. I must not have been too bad, I never got a spanking, just the timeouts. Thatís funny. Probably if Dad asked me if I wanted a spanking or have to sit, Iíd probably take the whipping so I could get back to my business of mischief. Probably why I never got the choice.
One of the most precious times of my life that Dad and I spent together was when he took me to the Father/Daughter Dance when I was in the sixth grade. Here I was, skinny, with stringy hair that had a mind of its own, dressed in a granny dress that had little pink roses all over it. Mom bought me my first pair of heels, a whole one inch high. I thought I was so grown up. Dad wore his blue leisure suit with white buck shoes and smelled of High Karate Cologne. That was a terrific night. None of the other girlís dadís looked asnice as my dad did that night. I was so proud to be his daughter. When I look back at the pictures mom took before we left the house, I think to myself, what a sight. Then I have a belly jiggling laugh.
My teenage years were a little more stressful on Dad. Boys, dating, makeup and driving had a lot to do with it. Being the daughter of a firefighter, my dad could be a little intimidating. My boyfriends were always on their best behavior when around him. Between Dad and Uncle Johnny, itís lucky I ever got asked out on any dates. The drill they were put though to have the pleasure of my company, Iím sure, wasnít worth it. Dad kept saying, youíre worth the effort, weíre just weeding out the poison ivy. They did a pretty good job of it.
Learning to drive (again, the Porsche) for real was a tense situation for both of us. At first, Dad was patient, but as
time went by, I was either driving too fast, not fast enough, too close to the edge of the road, too close to the center line, tailgating and so on and so forth. Poor mom had to intervene and take over my instruction. The day I got my license, on the first try mind you, Dad took us all out to celebrate. Chris couldn't believe his little sister was actually a licensed driver. He even said that the state of California must have lowered their standards for me to have been able to pass. That gave us all a chuckle.
My graduation day was the happiest day of my eighteen years of life. My family, Mom, Chris, Grandma DeSoto and Uncle Johnny were present to see me graduate, as was dad. He took enough pictures that Eastman Kodak didnít have to worry about poor sales on film that year. He was proud of his little girl, (again me). What a wonderful day that was.
My adult life is just beginning. With the, support of my family and friends, I know that whatever I do in life, Iím loved. And when I marry the man I love and have a family of my own, I will still be Daddyís little girl. Jennifer Lynn DeSoto, proud daughter of Roy DeSoto.
With unshed tears in his eyes, Roy finished reading the card Joanne had given him for Fatherís Day. It was from his daughter, eight month old Jennifer Lynn. Joanne told of hopes and promises of what the future may bring. A
future of love.
Happy Father's Day
Stories By Purry
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