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As a little girl….There is always that perfect man you look up to…that one man you first grow to love…that one man that first becomes your hero…that first man that first becomes the love of your life…
That one man you aren’t scared of no matter how much he scolds you because you know he loves you and does it out of love.
That one man that takes you on your first piggy ride. The one that plants the first kiss on your chicks…that man that would beat himself if he much as Let’s anything happen to you…that one man that buys you your first gifts and takes you on your first date to see the world as soon as you let go of your mother’s grasping hands.
That man that looks into your eyes…and wispers…”my little princess’…
That man that never really sees you as grown up…doesnt matter how old you are…what carear you into…or what life you are living..He still sees you as his little girl.
That man that would size any boy up…coming after you…and only gives you to the one you assure him is true…that man that would take you by the hand and walk you down the Isle.
Just like everyother part of yourlife…He had walked you…to your first day to cretch…to school…dropped you at your first dental clinic…taken you to your first day of college. ..paid your first bills…
Listened while you broke down from Your first beartbreak and wipes your tears when you were done and pats you on the back… “there there!!!”…
The one who didnt care so much about himself but as long as you were ok he was content. The one who would sacrifice all just to make sure you have all that you need..The one who would put himself in danger just so you can be safe…The one who would cry when it’s time to go away…knowing it’s high time you formed your own part and be on your way..
The one that will always love you unconditionally. ..no matter how imperfect you were.
The one who saw you and loved you despite your shortcomings.
The one who didnt care …when they said you were too old…He would open his arms and let you run into them..and he can hug you and chase all your fears away…”You will always be my little girl”….He would say.
“Even if you are old and grey”…”and have a thousand children at your call and beckon…”..” You will always be daddy’s little girl and nothing will change that”..
Though eventually you will have another man in yourlife…another love by your side. …taking up the responsibilities as he should as a man would to a woman he calls his own…
And of course he would love and treat you as he should…being his queen and love of his youth..claiming you to be his..mother of his children and lover of his soul…He still can’t take the place a father once occupied. …becuase no matter the fact that she is a queen to his castle as he is a lord and king over his Mansion…..that queen will always and will forever be…that little babe…Once tiny in a bundle..wrapped up in love…swinging in the confines of a father’s warmth…as he looked on with love and breathed out this words….
“Welcome to this world…my little princess. ..you will forever be”.
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Often times…we forget to appreciate even a little the first man that first loved us and taught us what to expect from the man we would soon eventually fall inlove with and call our own.
Sometimes because how loving our father’s were to us…we tend to look for same qualities in our suitors…so that that love will forever transcend throughout time.
Our father’s tend to teach us…what to expect from other men… (all in relation to a good father. ..who understood the worth of a family and the importance of love and respect as guiding his family ). Once you have such a good man for a father. ..you would hope for our intended to be atleast half of a man he was…or even better…taking a cue from him…
Also…we tend to forgot that we also are a reflection of the man who fathered us…what he is…we tend to become or exhibit a behaviour or two and once he is a good man…and radiated love…to you…as a father…you tend to reciprocate to others around you.
I am my father’s child.
I may be the queen to my husband or I may not be….but I will always remain a princess to my father.
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