I just want to hear him call me “Baby Girl”.
His “Baby Girl”, hop skip and jumping down the street his voice extending “Baby Girl”. I stop suddenly and run back towards him.
As he shares his wisest tales, he sits me down look me in my eyes to gain my attention “listen Baby Girl” and goes on and on about back in his day and I’ll listen closely amused by what he has to say.
When he’s excited about his game of ball, “Aye, Baby Girl, come look at this play!” Yelling from the living room as I do whatever it is that captures my attention in that moment, running to the couch to pay close attention to the highlights. We both scream “And ONE!” and smile.
When I grace the stage to collect my diploma or better yet when I received my Bachelors degree “That’s my Baby Girl!” Popping out of his seat in such joy, clapping and cheering in amazement. In awe of the intelligent “Baby Girl” he created.
And for all other moments where he would of referred to me, I just want to hear him call me “Baby Girl”. My heart is missing a piece but even writing this I can hear a indescribable voice in my head “Baby Girl” that brings a smile to my face, but tears to my eyes because I know my subconscious is playing tricks on me.
All in all, I know that if you weren’t stripped from us you’d be here filling all of my imaginations beyond what my brain has cooked up.
Father I wish I can hear you call me “Baby Girl” just once.