In response to The Rattling Bones Monday prompt, and with Father’s day coming up on the 21st June, I would like to reblog this.
After 19 years, I still miss my Dad and think of him every day.
I was one of two Daddy’s Little Girls, not that I was a twin, there being several years between us.
It was Dad who bathed my scraped knees, Dad who followed behind my bike with the walking stick hooked on the back until I got my balance. It was also Dad who saw to my verucca, dressing it every day until it nearly took his eye out when it erupted forth from the heel of my foot, leaving a considerable hole which miraculously had disappeared by morning without so much as a mark.
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