Dad,
I know that I don’t say it often enough, but I love you.
I love how you rocked me to sleep as a baby every night while mom worked the night shift at Fruit of the Loom.
I love how you combed my hair and brushed my teeth, when I wasn’t big enough to do it for myself.
I love our Friday night ‘dates’, when we would go out to eat at McDonalds and rent a movie afterwards (a VHS tape, at that….are we really that old?)
I love our joy rides up and down our road in your race car-a 1972 Chevrolet Vega-and how I feel as I see you speeding down the track. Win or lose, you’re my favorite driver. Why, I think you’re better than Jeff Gordon!
I love how, no matter how many times we may fight, I know that you still love me (even though I’m a pain…I take it from you, though.)
But most of all, dad, I love that I always have the security of being my daddy’s girl. As long as I’ve got you, and God, I have nothing to fear.
Love,
Whitney