I wish there was a way to bring him back. The sound I hear of someone steping on the front step right before the door opens reminds me of when he used to come home. The way th garage door opens reminds me of when I was little and he would be gone for weeks at a time in Asia or Europe or Africa and I would sit in the garage for hours playing games until the door opened and he parked his car got out and crouched to the ground and I would run up and take him in a hug and scream ” Daddies Home”. The way that pen ink smells before it drys reminds me of him , when I would hug him my face would go right to the pocket of his dress shirt where he kept his pens and he always forgot to put the caps on creatin little ink stains that smelt deliciously safe to me. When he would get off a plane and I would run to the bottom of the escalator and hug him and say ” I love the way you smell like plane because it means you’re really home”. I miss him every moment of every day. They way his body would be warm and his ears would be so cold. The freckles he had on his hands. The way he would lay on the couch taking it up until I would sit on his legs and then he would pin me down with them and tickle me until I cried from laughing. The way that I used to lay on his stomach and hear his belly gurgle because of his celiacs. The way that he would get so frustrated when I was 7 and could kill him at soccer. The way that he would yell YAHTZEE every Friday night. The way that he would sing Johnny cash songs and rub my back until I fell asleep. The way he would dance to bob Marley in the car and sing in his Jamaican voice. The way he would say things in different accents to make me laugh. His dumb jokes and hilarious belly laugh. The way he used to pick me up and put me in a potato sack. The way he would effortlessly say yes to any adventure I suggested. Every Saturday morning riding bikes down the river path and skipping rocks until we driped in sweat and then coming home and jumping in the pool. The way he looked at me and smiled. The way his soft hair felt in my hands. The way his wedding ring shined I his finger. The way his hands were so strong. The way his biceps bulged under his polo. The way he smelt sweaty and mixed with axe after going to the gym. The way he would talk to me when he was happy. The way he would rub his stubble on my cheek to annoy me. The way he would playfully say do you want a slaping or a whoopin and if I said slaping he would rub his hand on my face and kiss my forehead and if I said whoopin he would yell whoopin and hug me, even when I was in trouble but he didn’t punish me. The way he would put me in timeout and sit next me until it was over because he didn’t want me to be mad at him. The way he would hug me and tease me. I miss him so much it takes every part of me not to break down in grief. I love him so much and all I want is my daddy back, cause it isn’t fair that it was him.