A little girl in braids, bags packed, awaiting the arrival of her hero. Her missing piece. Her dad. Hours had passed since he was to arrive. Only to hear the phone ring, and her heart would sink. Disappointed again.
It's been years.
Decades.
Since she knew what love from a man was. Not the intimate, sexual kind of love. The kind of love that loves with no bounds. Thats loves with their full heart. Who is proud of who she is, despite her many short comings. The love of a man who is never supposed to let you down.
Her life has been full of failed expectations by men. So why should this one be any different?
Never knowing even the comfort of a reassuring hug from a father when life got rough. Never hearing how special you are from the man who is supposed to be the only man who sees you are special from the moment you come from the womb.
So how does this man count? How does what he say differ from the man whose words were once gold, until time to cash in. Being let down for over 20 years? From a man who you've known only a sliver of time in your exsistance?
"I love you." He said.
She heard his words, and knew they were real, but could not bring herself to believe them. For they were familiar and followed by nothing but a blind alley. Should she believe him? Could letting down the wall again bring familiar sorrow?
Something told her this time would be different. Something told her. He is not what she knew of.
1..... 2..... 3......
I believe.
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