Daddy

I was sitting at Wingstop (classy) with Kimmi when I got this text from my dad:

Missa I want you to know how proud I am of you and I think you're wonderful. This is weird but when you were a tiny I would rock you in my arms and whisper in your ear "you can be anything you want, you could be President of the United States." I don't think I've ever told anyone about our one way conversations before. Love you.

This is coming from the man who gave me my looks, my middle name, and my low tolerance for spicy foods. The man who gave me nicknames like Missa-lafa-lafalis and Rascally Rabbit. The man who came humble beginnings to graduate with honors from one of the best construction management programs in the country. The man who came to every one of my lacrosse practices and will quickly back me up when I brag about how good I was. The man who taught me how to throw a spiral and pitch a baseball (I have a good arm and it comes straight from the old man). The man's man who has been known to paint his daughters' fingernails. The man who has refined his pancake recipe and technique for years and has ruined Bisquick for his family forever. The man who had moves in the '80s and isn't afraid to bust them out from time to time. The man who is known to quote a Bill Murray movie, Emperor's New Groove, and Pride and Prejudice. In the same conversation. The man who taught me how to drive in his little red work truck after my mom lost patience. The man who would sing either Saturday's Warrior or The Go-Go's with me on the way to seminary (the truck didn't have a CD player and those were the only tapes we had.) The man who got us up early for scripture study every morning of my high school career. The man who read his scriptures every morning and was known to fall asleep during prayers. The man who taught me about getting to know your professors and asking them for help. The man who gave me a blessing the day before every school year. The man who didn't have a father of his own but somehow became the best father a girl could ask for.




I love you, Daddy.


Side note:I used to think it was weird that everyone said I looked like my dad. He's a boy. I'm a girl. What were they trying to say about me? Or him for that matter? But then I saw a picture of my dad in the 70s with his long beach boy hair. Touché.