Breakfast on a Saturday morning. Pancakes and homemade syrup from the glass measuring cup. Earnest conversations by the goat pen. Politics and salvation and family. A handful of candy bars on a long car trip. Five kids and always one of my favorite. Knee length shorts and knee high socks. Even flip flops in the mix. Della Baker inching down her sidewalk before a basketball game. Me in a hurry and frustrated that we had to stop. Carpet in a bathroom that never quite fit. Conversations with my husband. Forced, awkward but so loving. Accepting him through weather forecasts and grocery lists. “You little punkin, you.” Love words to my tiny girl. Checkbook always in the front pocket of your thin red t-shirt. Standing so proudly as a Marine even when you almost couldn’t. Love spent quietly. A steady heart beat through every shirt. A safe side of the bed when I was sick. You’re still missed Daddy. I still wish I could call you today and say, “Happy Birthday.” Memories still strong and me still wishing you were here. Still calling out in my spirit hoping you might answer. Still a daddy’s girl. Twenty-one years and not a moment has passed.