When I was in 8th grade I remember envying the girls who still got to go home to their dad.

Who gets called princess and actually feels like one when their dad holds them.

Who are brave knowing that whatever comes at them has to go through their fathers first.

When I was in 10th grade I remember crying over girls who still got to go home to their dads.

Who can post fathers of their dad being the best and meaning it.

Who can confidently date knowing if anyone hurt them, their dad would hurt them ten times worse.

Who can be shown what a real relationship looks like.

When I was in college I hurt over the girls who still remembered what their dad looked like.

See, my father is a backwards glance.

My father is a shallow breath already hesitating on speaking.

My father is forgotten.

And I have his face.