carol Diane snyder
Stories (1/0)
My heart belongs to Daddy
My Heart Belongs to Daddy When I was small, a child, the world was so pretty. My room pink and soft and smelled clean. With their bright lights and colorful signs, the buildings in the city were so appealing to me. The magic of things like Christmas and even Halloween all seemed so pretty, and now I long for the clean, pretty things in life. When I was seven, for my birthday, I saw Swan Lake in San Francisco. I thought I was royalty. My mother actually styled my hair, and I had a lacey dress and an arctic white fox stole. I was so excited. After my mother did my hair, she put my heart-shaped locket around my neck, and an arctic fox stole about my shoulders and new mary janes with a slight heel. I had never had any heel before and felt so grown. The fox stole was weird and creepy because it had a face and glass eyes, but the fur was so clean and beautifully soft. A fancy town car picked us up, and the building it drove us to was one of San Francisco's finest, although I don't recall which building it was. The entire evening was a very fancy affair that I occasionally allow myself to remember, but not too often, so I don't become melancholy. Just enough to not give up hope entirely.
By carol Diane snyder3 years ago in Fiction