I believe that, at my creation, God deemed you my father.
How else could a man be so delicately crafted for my upbringing?
Surely you are some miracle of your own.
I do not have your dark eyes framed by smile lines that have earned their keep.
I do not have a last name that tastes like a trip to Spain, but rather like gum-
chewed on for a bit and then spat out.
I do not have these things because, on a small technicality, your blood doesn't run within me.
They say "technically" I am not your offspring.
Gave you a title of which you are so undeserving.
I've seen your face contort at the sharp tongued word meant to pierce-
the very foundation that you built.
His name was Mr. Piggy, the toy you gave to me.
The one spent long summer nights conversing with,
in that old, plastic playhouse you built.
I carried him with me and eventually his extensive wear led to injury;
in the form of a ripped seam in the back knee.
You helped me nurse his wounds-
coached me through an impromptu piggy surgery.
The moment I learned to sew- One of the many skills you gave to me.
For a little girl growing up in such a grown up world, you gave me the gift of being silly.
Taught me to make others laugh- especially those with a face full of tears.
You've taught me that laughter is a remedy all on it's own.
How many times have I cried and held back a smile at your cheesy comedy perfectly intertwined with clarity and positivity?
I remember, I screamed I hated you- I don't remember why.
You entered my room with a face of the wounded- I carry that image in my mind.
Words that have not left my lips since.
You taught me that words can be daggers and knives.
You didn't scold me, you just looked at me with sad eyes.
Eyes that always held such light and if sucked that well of light dry.
I remember hearing a story of a boy without a father-
becoming overwhelmed that you had decided to be mine.
How do I express the pride I have for a man whose heart has such a large capacity?
How do I tell you that you are everything I needed from a father and more?
How do I express my appreciation adequately?
I have this letter to barely scrape the surface;
a million cleverly worded sentences would not be nearly enough.
So, in parting, thank you.
Thank you, Dad.
Thank you for raising me and being an amazing human being.
That little girl that ran behind a chair when she first met you
A.K.A. your real daughter