True, all healthy father/daughter relationships are beautiful. Still, this one is special to me. Not long ago, me & my daddy looked a lot like that. We never had an elaborate handshake (Can we, please?) but he made sure to squeeze in numerous noogies instead. Like Kayliyah and her daddy, we also shared music. In fact, growing up I used to “borrow” his CDs. For us, bonding over music was an everyday thing. Each old school jam on the radio incited a well warranted “who’s singing?”
Just today, with the volume turned up, it hit me, “I really am my father’s daughter”. Like so many times when I would come home from school, hearing Kool & The Gang all the way down the block; here I was, in my own living room, doing the exact same thing. And when “Too Hot” stopped, The Commodores took over, and I carried on shuffling my feet.
See, when you’re little, and your Daddy is damn near 6 feet (his words, not mine) you figure all daddies must do strange things. As I fumbled through adolescence I thought, “why is he doing this to me?” But now? Now all those oldies but goodies feel perfectly familiar and bring back happy memories.
He always say he love me, and my daddy show me.
We haven’t kicked it in a while, Daddy & me. It’s been a few years actually. And no, nothing bad happened. Why then? Because he’s back home supporting me and my big life dreams. I’m studying abroad so we no longer ride in the diamond lane, play Duke Nukem (with all the cheats), or gobble down mountains of Baskin-Robbins’ Pralines & Cream. Instead, we’ve settled for phone calls, texts and FaceTime sessions which are few and far between.
But, I agree. Kickin’ it wit’ my daddy is pretty great, even if he tricked me (multiple times) into getting in the carpool lane.
twenty-ish 