Lately, he's been "Daddo",
with a grin and wink that shows my cocky young adult spirit.
He's gone through many transformations
this hero-man, who's just a man
in the 24 years I've been his.
And he wishes, all his...
That's the thing about daughters and dads
there's all heart found-up, all tied-up in the growing up and going.
And he swells with pride to the limits of himself -
and gets frustrated.
But I'm not.
Because, he does - get all me. The Daddo-girl that needs help figuring out how to replace my taillight and change the oil in my car, or financial advice, or a few flowers sent to say I'm cherished. He's the one with the words to soothe a pre-interview worry with a dose of sideline-cheerer dad, and a tendered heart with a dose of if-you-liked-it-then-you-shoulda-put-a-ring-on-it dad. And he makes me laugh.
Maybe because I got his sense of humour.
He's the one to hear all of daughter-me, as hilarious and arduous I'm sure it sometimes is.
He works too long, on too many things. Doesn't sit in the sun enough. And we're still working on the shorts, black socks and shoes thing, and his cookie-monster habits.
But he's Dad; Daddo for now.
and his girl loves him.