Today, I miss my daddy

It was a dark and stormy night. I lay silent in my bed, counting the seconds between the flashes that filled my bedroom with light and the crashes that filled my ears with terror. I lay there still, too tired to move, yet too panic-stricken to close my eyes. My door creaked slowly open and the shadow of a large figure appeared on the wall above my bed. My head whipped towards the shadow’s owner, my startled heart beating staggeringly more quickly than before. I took a deep breath, relieved to see my dad peeking in, smile on his face.

“Hey, Pea,” he hissed, “you asleep?” I shook my head. “There’s quite a storm going on out there, want to watch?” I jumped out from under my Winnie-the-Pooh sheets before he could say another word. Any exhaustion I had felt moments prior had now left my body completely, and my dad and I walked hand in little hand through the house and out to the front step. “Careful not to wake Mom,” he warned. My six-year-old body was overcome with concurrent terror and excitement. Storm watching was one of my dad’s favorite activities, and he wanted to watch this one with me. I crawled awkwardly over his legs, plopped myself comfortably in his lap and smiled nervously at him. I began paying careful attention as he began to talk about cloud formations I didn’t understand and scientific explanations I didn’t care about, but soon I was drifting into the power of storm.

The sky shone an eerie green, and ominous clouds held threats that sent shivers down my spine. I hugged my purple pajamas tightly around my comparatively miniscule frame. We sat and watched the rain fall and dance on the pavement and squinted as the world light up around us for mere milliseconds at a time. “Smile,” my dad prodded, “God’s taking pictures.”

I put on my brave face for the storm. I firmly answered “No” when my dad asked me if I was ever the slightest bit scared. However, the thunder cracks never failed to startle and give me away--I jumped every time. My dad would laugh and pull me in tighter, and I knew that nothing could happen to me. I was safe in his arms.

I watched the storm with wonder as the epic battle of nature was fought before my eyes. Though, being the six-year-old that I was, I soon fought and lost my own battle with consciousness. I was scooped up, and as my dad laid me in my warm and inviting bed, I opened my eyes just long enough to grin and say, “Thank you.” I surrendered to sleep, willing and satisfied, no longer phased by the lights and sounds--the storm continually reminding me of its presence. It was a dark and stormy night, but there shielded by my dad’s strength, tucked under his assuredness, and wrapped up in his courage, I wasn’t scared any longer.