I Sure Do Like This Picture

I don't know what they're talking about.
But I sure do like this picture.

I am a Daddy's Girl. Still. My father always wanted a daughter: he used to say he'd picked out a name when he was 15 years old - the name I bear today. When I was a bit rotund with terrible skin and awkward social skills, my dad would tell me I was beautiful...his perfect gem. When I was stumped by a life problem, he'd sit with me and say, "The answer awaits us. Let's find it." When I came down the stairs wearing that homecoming dress he so despised, he folded down his newspaper and grunted, "Like a ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion." (My introduction to Proverbs, by the way).

My father taught me to be a thinker. To be gracious with my manners and generous with everything I had. To remember that "keeping a civil tongue in my mouth" doesn't mean I don't say what I think, but saying what I think should never keep me from being a lady.

We buried that man this year.

But his memory lives on.
In snapshots like this, I recall him as a gift.
Now she has her gift, too.

I look at this picture.
Look at this man.
How could I have ever dreamed this extraordinary daughter I once carried small and frail would know this exceptional man...and call him Daddy? This man who talks with her, holds her, protects her and calls her beautiful. Who leads without crushing, guides without doing...whose still, small whispers dominate even the loudest shouts telling her she can't. Won't. Isn't able.

I am a Daddy's Girl.
As is she.

I had a superb father.
As does she.
Better, even.

I don't know what they're talking about.
But I sure do like this picture.