I call him Daddy

I'm a daddy's girl.

My entire life, I've believed that no matter what was wrong or what I needed fixed, my daddy could do it. From broken toys to broken hearts, my daddy could make anything all better again. He's never let me down. He's always been there with a smile, a word of encouragement and a hug so big and strong that I felt like nothing could ever hurt me again. He's been my life-long hero, my loudest and proudest supporter and the man I've compared every guy I ever dated to.

He was never the dad that came home from work and plopped into a chair. He did dishes, laundry, cooked dinner and always found time for me and my mom. He took care of me when I was sick...staying up with me all night when I had the chicken pox as a kid...and in college, when I had my tonsils out, he stayed with me all night and woke me up every three hours to give me my medicine...in a shot glass.

One of my very favorite memories of him is from the summer after I graduated high school. He and I took a road trip...just the two of us...to Henrietta, Oklahoma (home of Troy Aikman, if you didn't know). We were on the hunt for a few good sows...or at least a reprieve from everyday life. We stayed in a charming hotel...and by charming I mean I wouldn't walk around without socks on and I refused to drink the water. But it was one of the most amazing trips of my life.

We both knew that this was my last trip with him before I went off to chase my dreams, and I remember silently crying on the way back home because I didn't ever want to grow up and not be his little girl.

And here I am...grown up...or something like it...and I'm proud to say I'm still his little girl. I'm still stubborn and impatient and pretty sure I'm always right...all traits my mom says daddy gave me...and that makes me proud.

And I pray every night that a man like him comes into my life and wants to love me half as much as he loves my mom...and if not, then I'm happy knowing that I've already found my perfect man...I call him daddy.