* when I was little, I would visit my "dad's" work place. He worked for the state. Plowing, fixing roads, sanding, etc. while I was there my dad would laugh and joke with his coworkers. Since I was so small I was horrified. The boys my height I the playground could hurt me easily, imagine how badly these giant men could hurt me. They all had long thick beards, missing teeth and cuts from being careless, and were covered in dirt or sand. I almost cried every time I was there, but I would reach for my dad's calloused hand, rough and cracked from all the hard work he did. I would feel safe. Just his presence would calm me and make those giants seem far less scary. My tears would vanish and the smile I almost never wore would appear on my face. Good things don't last forever though. He doesn't care anymore. I haven't seen him in years. I felt completely abandon and defenseless. I soon learned to hold my own. I would come home with cuts and black eyes from fending off the little boys on the playground. I protected myself from then on. Since then my little sister was born. She has grown to be a big ball of energy and mischief. I desperately want her to have the feeling of protection like I had for a brief time as a child. I don't want this one to leave though. I don't want her to learn with cuts and bruises. I want her to have her hand of protection. Currently she thinks I'm being an annoying big sister when I pull her from the fight with the neighbor's grandkids, but I keep in my heart she will be safe. She will eventually be a grown woman capable of being on her own, but until then I'll be there to be the protective big sister.
