I Am My Father's Daughter

 There was the time that the school had no heat for a couple of days and my sister and I complained of the cold to our parents. Imagine our surprise when the following day, as my sister and I sat in Math class, we saw Daddy at our classroom advising the teacher he was taking his daughters home. He'd come to the school to see for himself about the heat, or lack thereof, and once he determined that it was indeed as we'd described, he bypassed the office and everything. He found us on his own and to our giggles at his boldness, he simply let us know that his girls don't have to sit in a cold school!

Or the time when my friend came to pick me up and honked the horn for me to announce his arrival. My Daddy prohibited me to go out to him exclaiming that nobody honks for his daughters. They were to respectfully come to the door and ask for you.

And there was the time while in college, during a snowstorm, I was leery about walking to the cafeteria because some of the male students were horseplaying outside and tossing the girls in the snow. A call to Daddy had him on the road during a state of emergency to pick me up and bring me home to weather the storm because, as he told me, there's no place or time Daddy won't get to his girls.

Or when I saw a mouse in my apartment about midnight and frantically called my parents—because surely I couldn't co-exist with this rodent. Daddy, who'd just come in from the road, truck driver that he is, put his shoes back on and with my mother in tow, traveled the 30 minutes to my apartment, caught the mouse, and put it outside…thus, saving my life.

Yet, I recall when I wrecked my friends car—that I was definitely not supposed to be driving, 100% of my summer's meager earnings from babysitting was paid to him to reimburse him for the money he and my mother had paid to repair said car.

And though a daughter's tears may bring some leniency from their fathers, our Daddy wasn't moved. He'd say "Stop snottin and talk...You weren't crying when you ______!" 

That's my Daddy…while instilling strength, determination, common sense, and independence, he was quick to protect, rescue, teach, support, scold and love. It was instances like the aforementioned stories that taught my sisters and I that we were special and deserved to be loved, respected, protected, and cared for. Most importantly, my father's presence and love were instrumental in preparing a girl's development into a mature woman.

Now, with all of that said, allow me to introduce myself:

I am fierce and fabulous.

I am determined and strong.

I am Dianne Scott and I am my Father's Daughter.