I Heart You, You Haunt Me.

Daddy's Little Girl

The tears roll down my face,

without notice,

without effort,

but with feeling.

I thought I was done crying.

I mean, Jackson's come back to me.

And yet, there won't be

any more days

like that day

at the carnival.

Jackson may be back,

but those days

are gone

forever.

Dad looks over at me.

And then he turns away.

He doesn't say

anything.

What's he thinking?

That this is all for the best,

because when you're fifteen,

you shouldn't be so serious,

like he and Mom told me a few months ago?

Mom and Dad liked Jackson.

I know they did.

He stayed for dinner sometimes

and he made them laugh,

telling stories about his brother and sister

and the pranks they played on one another.

But my parents worried.

"You're so young..."

"You're spending too much time together..."

"How serious is it.."

I look at Dad.

He looks at me

again.

Then his hand reaches up

and wipes the tears away,

without notice,

without effort,

but with feeling.

"I remember when you were little," He says,

"you'd fall down and scrape your knee.

And you'd come running over to me, crying and crying."

"Then you'd kiss it," I tell him,

"and make it better."

I remember too.

It was so easy then.

"I know you loved him a lot.

And I wish I could make this better."

So that's what he was

thinking.

"I love you, Dad."