I sit Indian style on the green shag carpet in my bedroom, choosing a pair of shoes for my only brunette Barbie, Samantha. She is secretly my favorite. I even washed her hair the other night with my Mom’s Prell. I hear the familiar voice of Tom Brokaw cascading down the hallway but I cannot tell you what he is reporting.
I can smell the fried chicken on the stove and hope there will be fluffy mashed potatoes and brown gravy to accompany it. My tummy grumbles at the thought. I can feel the saliva pooling in my mouth.
My brother comes out of the bathroom and my mother hollers at him, asking if he will be home to eat. I look out my bedroom door and see the steam from the shower as it follows behind him, like a foggy cape. He has a towel around his waist. He crosses into his bedroom and hollers back at her and tells her that he will not be home. Not tonight.
I sigh, wishing he would be because it is so nice to have the four of us together at dinner.
Just then I hear the familiar rumble of my Daddy’s gold, Chevy truck as he kills the engine. I spring to my feet and run down the hallway, so excited for his entrance. He comes through the door that leads to the garage, just as he does every afternoon at this time. It is quite possibly my favorite part of the day.
I run to him and he scoops me into his arms and I feel the scruff of his sideburn as it graces my cheek. I’m so happy to see him I could burst. His smile and grasp tell me that he feels the same. He puts me down and goes into the kitchen to my mother and gently kisses her on the cheek as she wipes her hands on her apron. He asks about her day and she, his.
She pours him a glass of iced tea as he sits in his favorite chair to take off his shoes and says to me “Come here and give me some sugars.” I climb into his lap, though my feet almost touch the floor once I’m there. I hug him again and tell him about school that day or what’s for dinner or something about one of my friends.
After a few minutes he’s off to change his clothes and I go back to my playing. He tinkers out in the garage until Mom calls us for dinner. It’s so nice to know that he’s just right outside if I need him. I’m so glad he’s home safe from work.
I just might be my Daddy’s girl.
This week we would like you to write about how the show of affection has played a part in your memory.
Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection (either by you or someone else) stands out, and show us. Bring us to that time. Help us feel what you felt.