Butterfly Kisses

One Sunday afternoon, following church services, my Dad took me to Pizza Hut. I was so excited because he had surprised me. My Mom and my little brother, Ryan, hadn’t gone to services that morning, as they were sick. So, Dad decided to take me out. After we were in seated in one of the red booths with a red table, we blew pieces of our straw wrappers across the table with our straws—kind of like a table soccer game, except a piece of a wrapper instead of a ball and straws and breath instead of legs. We had a great time. That was ten years ago.

When my Dad and I would spend time together, we would play board games, baseball, basketball, he would read to me, and he would sing me to sleep. But as Ryan got to be about five, they would be spending time together. They were involved in t-ball, baseball, soccer, football, and Boy Scouts. I grew up, too. Now I am a young lady. My Dad and I talk to each other only when necessary. Our talk is purely business. I cry every now then. My feelings mostly stay all bottled up inside my aching heart.

I love my Dad. Always have. Always will.