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A home without a wall, |
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| How to Join | Member's Area | Private Library | Search | Sanctuary | Login | |
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A home without a wall, |
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| Passions in Prose |
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Daddy's Girl |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee 
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He was tall and skinny. Sort of a sixties Buddy Holly overthrow image. His dark black ringlets of hair and the black rimmed glasses made him look outdated. He didn’t care. With blackened skin from an olive toned ancestor, he wore his jeans and jean jackets confidently. He was my world. I trotted and ran behind his long legged steps and I proudly kept up. He had a car fetish. One that kept cars of wasted days in our yard of lost treasures. He “piddled” on them daily. I dressed quickly each day just to make sure, that when he headed out the door, I was going along. Junk Yards. The body part displays for broken classics. He was on a mission. I was along for the ride. We’d stop in and greet the owner. I always received candy. Then he was in the gate. Off to meet the donator of his much needed missing parts. I ran through the junk yard in awe. The broken windshield glass were precious gem stones to me. Sometimes I found change down in the seats of old jalopies. Hub caps were displayed along all the part shed walls like a giant coin collection. Goats, kept by the owner, ate the grass down around the remains of vehicles. Daddy let me pet the babies and get as dirty as I wanted. Never saying anything, but “Let’s go”, when he found what he was looking for. He always smelled of grease and Old Spice. His hands were broad and strong and stained. To me, he wasn’t afraid of anything. From a very young age he tossed me into all the learning pools of his youth. He put skates on my feet at the age of three. He pushed me out onto the old warped oak floors of the local skating rink. I was terrified, but I made it. At five he put me on my new bicycle, no training wheels mind you, and shoved me around the yard till I rode screaming with pride, anger, and adrenaline. At six he put me in the pool and let me swim along with him. Then he got out and watched as I proved I could swim to the deep end. He dove in and rescued me but pretended that he was just getting hot in the sun and needed a dip. At seven I rode my first go cart. We’d race till grease spattered our faces. At eight he had to teach me to defend myself from the kids on the block that liked to push me down and hit me. I came home with a black eye of course, but he let me cry. Then the ages seemed to meld one into the other. Every year a new lesson. From scuba diving, to motorcycles, to stripping paint off old cars, to re-tarring the roof on our Florida home. He was there. Teasing me. Taunting me. Calling me nick names from Hazel to Sneaky Snake. He spoke in such Southern whiskey strength. The drawl was sophisticated but smoky. Quite like that of Foghorn Leghorn and mixed with Yosemite Sam. I loved to hear him speak. Even when he cursed it was unique. His eyes rolled and his cigarette would jump up and down in his mouth. He was so comical and didn’t even realize it. His favorite sayings were “It’s all in your mind!”, and “If I had a nickel for every time you asked that we’d be rich!” his answer to my constant “Why?” was “Just so you could grow up and ask me that!” Sarcasm dripped in his every word. But yet, it wasn’t spoken with harshness, just sweetly practiced and experienced sarcasm. I looked nothing like him. I was fair and red headed. Freckled and dimpled chinned. I wanted to look like him so badly. I used to play with his black curls. He slept in a easy chair and the only little girl thing I evoked on him was bows! I would put bows and barrettes in his hair while he slept. And he didn’t care. He’d wake up and laugh. I belly bounced at the sight of him. BuckWheat I’d scream. We fought for two years when I turned fourteen. He suddenly realized boys would be around me. He hated it. But he let go. After many temper flares, and my relentless rebellion, he let go. I saw sadness and pain in his eyes as he walked away surrendering. We never fought again. There was an understanding. A bond that would never be broken. We wouldn’t dare try to. We reached that threshold of Father and Daughter and backed off respectfully. He taught me to love and be loved. That love was stronger than the hardest most destructive aspect of our being. I love him immensely. And the most precious thing about that. Is that he knows. Without me saying it, or bombarding him with action. He knows. And now, many years later, I sarcastically snapped at my husband. He said “Gosh, You are so much like your Dad!” I smiled and thanked him graciously. Some people give a good impression. Some people leave impressions within you forevermore. [This message has been edited by rwood (edited 07-18-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 Regina Wood - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
For several reasons, this is a keeper for me. Perhaps because we think alike. Perhaps because your Dad wore Old Spice. Nevertheless, it is a keeper! I would make one suggestion. It would be much easier to read if you would give the story paragraphs. Keep your thought processes separate. The story is good. Thank you SO much for sharing! |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee |
Thanks so much. I had wrote it in my Word program first then copied and pasted. It came out all strung together. There really were paragraphs  But I did something wrong in the process. I'm glad you liked it anyways. |
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Songbird Member Elite
since 1999-12-15
Posts 2184Missouri |
I very much enjoyed reading this..you certainly have a special Daddy. All girls should be so lucky. |
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
I sit here with tears in my eyes. Though these stories are yours; The Daddy's girl emotion is mine as well. Thankyou for a look into your past and a rememberence of mine. From one "Daddy's girl" to another.....well done. Marilyn. |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Regina, You're a girl after my own heart. I'm keepin' this one too! What a wonderful relationship... Oh, and I'm still on my treasure hunt.  The past is history and the future is a mystery, but today is a gift and that is why it is the present! |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Regina, this is wonderful!! May I suggest that after formatting into paragraphs, that you send it to a local newspaper..or a magazine for inclusion in their Father's Day issue? It's not to early to try for Good Housekeeping or something..I think it's THAT good! Good luck, please keep me informed if you submit it. You write effortlessly. I am going to look for your name in the prose forum more often!  |
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knightlyshadows Senior Member
since 2001-04-14
Posts 791obscured vision |
I usually dont reply in here, but I like to take the time to read a few stories occasionally. This one really touched me. It brought a clear picture of my dad to me and im greatful for that. I miss him terribly and around the holidays it gets worse. I think you wrote this wonderfully and it was very touching. Great work on it. THis goes to my library. tiff  “A single choice can build destinies,or destroy them.” |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee |
Larry: So glad you liked this one. I have to say that junk yards hold many precious memories for me. Hugs! and hope you find your treasure! Poet deVine: I am so honored that you think that highly of this piece. I would love to have this published for my Dad while he's still here to read it. I will muster the edit and try and see what I can do. Many, many thanks. I am so grateful!!! Tiff: I appreciate your connection and I feel for you deeply. The impression is forever there, inside. Our love is everlasting. I hope for you great warmth when you recall those memories this season. Gentle hug and understanding. Thank you for your sincere thoughts. Sincerely, Regina P.S. I must have fell off the world when you replied Marilyn and songbird. I still appreciate your comments and apologize for not thanking you. From one daddy's girl to each. I am honored still by the connection. It's all in the mind |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
This dad needed to hear about a daddy's girl again. I sure miss you both.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
This is such a beautiful post - thank you for sharing. I be me BUT who does me be? |
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Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
You were SO lucky to have felt what you felt for your Father, and I think the best compliment you can pay him is to be gracious when someone says, "You are just like your Father." Now if that is the case, I missed meeting a truly wonderful man if he was anything like you. Sure missed you Regina. ~ The soul lies buried in ink that does not flow ~ |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Daddy's like to reflect as much as their daughter's do. And I have to visit this occasionally. It continues to bless my soul.  |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Larry? Thanks for popping this one back up. It is certainly a Keeper.... |
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tonia Junior Member
since 2003-06-13
Posts 41taiwan |
You're so fortunate to have such a good daddy. I wish I had one like your's. |
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