I was seven and Daddy woke me up for school. He made my lunch with butter and mom’s homemade jams, then he ironed my white scarf. Once, he left the hot iron on one of my doll blankets; the iron’s stain never came off. Daddy and I crossed the street and he never let go of my hand. But he knew I would grow up one day. He knew that one day, I wouldn’t need to hold on to his hand.
I want to thank all the Dads who hold their children’s hands, who take them to soccer practice and cheer from the benches. I want to thank the fathers who kiss their children every night before they go to bed and sit on the edge of their beds before they fall asleep. I want to thank the Dads who buy ice-cream on their way home from work and play catch with their kids at dusk.
Thank you Daddy for cheering me, for never ceasing to smile, for being my rock. Thank you for being my father, my guardian angel.
Love,
Your little girl