I am kind of superstitious. As much as I yammer on I keep my cards closer to my chest than you might think. When my Universe is in flux I tend to just shut up and hold on.
This morning a girlfriend said “You don’t really talk much about your dad.” And my eyes welled up with tears. “Nope. Because there isn’t that much to say. It isn’t complicated. I Love him, like little girl Love him. He’s my Dad. And I’m his little girl.”
I’m not a fan of vaguebooking (the intentionally vague Facebook status) nor do I think it is all that cool to use my blog to tell someone else’s story. Occasionally I have to make a choice to just shut up altogether or to tell only part of the story.
My dad needs surgery. This little girl is kind of inside out about that. I might be quiet this week. I am planning to head to see my father as soon as I am able. In the meantime if you have extra good juju, prayers or well wishes – I’ll take them. He’s going to be just fine. Because he’s my dad. He’s fought bigger battles. And he always wins. Because he’s my dad. And I am his little girl.