My Dad

My Dad

My dad:

Slayer of monsters and mean people, giver of hugs and high fives, deliverer of lunch boxes and left-at-home homework.

My dad.

My dad did this thing when I was a kid where whenever I would have a bad dream, he would tell me that the dream was a monster who lived in my closet, that it was hiding in there where I couldn't see it.

But, don't worry, have no fear, because he knew just what to do. Then, he would go into my closet, armed with a pillow case and nerves of steel. He would go boldly into that darkness, proclaiming that he alone could vanquish that bad dream.

And I would wait, wide eyed, blankets pulled tight, for the battle to begin.

And what a battle it was! Oh, that nightmare sure put up a fight! That horrible, terrible, tormenting thing, it put up a fight. But,

My dad,

He would throw himself against the inside of my closet, he would wrestle and wrangle, and he would come out battling with the nightmare.

Then, I would see it! A bright light inside that pillow case, he'd caught the damn thing!

It would pull him around my room, daring to escape, but meeting its doom outside my bedroom door.

I only later came to find that it was just a flashlight in a pillow case, and a dad who's little girl just needed some peace of mind, and some sleep.

My dad.

He still battles monsters, but they have different names and bigger teeth. They are the rent that I can't pay. They are how am I going to eat this month. They are a whisper over breakfast that I didn't say yes.

My dad,

When he hears what has happened to his now not-so-little girl, he just gets a bigger pillow case. And it fits all my nightmares and all my demons and everything that has ever threatened to hurt me,

And he wrestles that motherfucker to the ground.