Daddy's Hands

So I found this piece that I wrote in 1996… makes me smile, I loved to write even then.. Hope you like it. It was a bit hard for me to leave as is and not make changes, but here it is...


As she stepped outside of the ragged apartment she’d called home all her life, a blast of cold air chilled her face. She began to walk. She walked past the park where she rode her bike for the first time. She remembered the way she felt when her father let go and let her go freely by herself, she didn’t fall once and she was happy and her father was proud.
She walked past the ice cream shop, where every Sunday afternoon her dad would take her and let her pick out any kind of ice cream she wanted. She remembered how happy she felt trying to lick it down before it melted in the hot sun, and how her daddy would laugh at the sight of his little angel covered in chocolate.
She walked past the grad school where her father led his little girl, wide eyed and knees shaking, into the kindergarten class. She remembered how sad she was when her father had to leave, and she had to let go of his big hand that seemed to comfort and lead her. She remembered how his eyes watered as she cried and begged him to stay, but how he knew he must go.
She finally comes to the cemetery where her father now lies. She kneels down, thinking of the good times she’d had with her daddy. She wishes now more than ever, that she could hold on to daddy’s hand and have him tell her everything’s going to be alright.