Father,
I remember that day at the soda fountain: me with my cherry phosphate, you with your lime. You talked of sea air and the thrill of adventure: safari's in India, the pyramids of Egypt, cattle drives in Australia... "No place for a little girl", you said, as you walked out of the shop and out of my life.
I would imagine you lying by a campfire beneath a star-filled desert sky -- wondering if you were thinking of me as I was thinking of you. I kept a knapsack on my shelf with essentials (compass, map of the sky, Snicker's bars) hoping that one day you would return and we would set off on your next adventure together. That day never came.
They tore down the little soda fountain about 10 years ago. (A cafe was built in it's place.) I go there sometimes with friends, searching the faces of all those who pass by -- hoping one day I will recognize your dark brown eyes.
Love,
your little girl
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