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P. 1
Daddy's Girl

Daddy's Girl

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Published by Caitlin Stagg
Non-fiction essay about my relationship with my dad, fall 2010
Non-fiction essay about my relationship with my dad, fall 2010

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Published by: Caitlin Stagg on Nov 26, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/20/2013

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Stagg1CaitlinStaggLampmanEssay#1I’mstandinginthegravelinfrontofoneofthebarndoorswithmyfaceinmyhands,myshouldersheavingwiththerhythmofmysobbing.Mydadreachesdownandrubsmybackwhisperingconsolingwordstome.Iam8yearsoldandamontholdcalfhasjustdied.Ireachupandtakemydad’shandandwipethebackofmyotherhandroughlyacrossbothofmyeyestryingtostoptheflowoftearsbeforemydadtellsmeto.Thisisn’tthefirstanimalthatwehavehadthatdiedbutIhadbeenhelpingmydadbottle‐feedthiscalfforweeksnowandhadreallywantedtobeabletosaythatwesavedit.Icriedforafewmoreminuteswhilemydadtookmeinsidetomymomsoshecouldwashmyfaceoffandtellmetoblowmynose.MydadthensatmeonhislapandtoldmehowgoodIwastothatcalfwhileitwashere.HesaidthatImadelifesogoodforhimforawhileandgavehimlotsoflove.Hemademefeelalotbetteraboutitjustlikemydadusuallydidwiththings.Iwasmydaddy’slittlefarmgirlandIwouldn’tbestoppedbythistragicincident.***Almostonceayearwewouldburyapet.Growinguponafarmyouknownottogetattachedtoallofyouranimals,butyoustilldo.Intherightcornerofthegardenisabigblackofsandstoneandinfadedblackmarkeristhelistofnamesofallthepetsburiedthere.Theoldestnameshavebeencompletelyrubbedofffrom
 
Stagg2timeandweatherandthenewonesarealreadyfading,justlikethememoryoftheanimal.WhenIwasyoungIwouldgoandsitontheswingingbenchinthegardenunderthewillowtreesandtalktothedepartedpetsthatImissedsomuch.SometimesIwouldjustsitandcryandmissthem.OthertimesIwouldplaywithdollswhilesittinginthedirtwheretheywereburiedafewfeetundermynowmuddiedjumper.Whenmydadburiedtheanimals,hemaylooklikehegotdressedspecificallyfordigginginthedirtbutreallythatwasthewayhealwaysdressed.Cowboyboots,blackWranglersstainedwithmud,dirt,cowshit,younameit.OnhisheadwasaDetroitbaseballcapthatliterallylooksonehundredyearsoldfromwearandtear;youcan’tevenseetheDetroitsymbolonitanymore.Igrewupfollowingmydadaroundthefarm.Takingcareoftheanimalswithhimandevengivingshotstomypygmygoatsbymyselfattheyoungageof9.***ShowingmygoatsatthefairwasoneofmyfavoritethingsIeverdid.Ilovedstandingbytheirpenduringthedaywhilefair‐goerswerewalkingthroughthebarnslookingattheanimalsandaskingmequestionsaboutmygoats.Ifeltlikesuchanauthoritywhenexplainingtopeoplefourtimesmyagewhatpygmygoatsareandwhattheyeat.MygrandparentswouldalwayscomeinAugustandmygrandpawouldbemyrighthandmanatthefair.MymomandIevenmadehimashirtthathadagoatonthebackandthewords‘Caty’shelper’.WhenIdidn’thaveashowor
 
Stagg3chorestodowewouldsitincampingchairsundertheshadeofthetreesthatwereafewhundredfeetfromthebarndoors.Wewouldtalkanddrinkwaterandwalkaroundthebarnstopassthetime.Wewereatthefairforusuallyabouttwelvehoursaday.Theheatwassometimesunbearable.DuringshowsIhadtowearblackLevisandawhitebuttondownshirt.Mysmallfacewouldgraduallyturnbrightredfromtheheatanditwouldtakevastamountsofcoldwaterortheair‐conditionedhome‐economicsdepartmentbuildingtobringmebacktoanormalcolor.Mymomwouldpackuslunchinthemorningbeforeweleftwithsnackstolastusthroughouttheday.SometimesmygrandpawouldevensplurgeandbuymeanelephantearorsomechurrosifIbeggedenough.Ilovedwhenfamilyandfamilyfriendswouldstopbythebarntosayhitome.IwouldgivethematouroftheaislesofgoatsthatIwasincompetitionwith.IwouldshowoffanyribbonsthatIhadalreadywonsofarthatweekthatIproudlydisplayedhangingonthefenceorabovethepenthatmygoatswerein.OneblisteringAugustdaymyGrandpaandIweresittingunderthetreesdrinkingwater.MymomhadgonetothecartogetmyshowingclothesandbringthemtomesoIcouldstartgettingreadyfortheshowIhadinanhour.IthadalreadybeenanextremelylongdaysoIwasn’treallylookingforwardtothisshow.Ithadtakenmealongtimetocleanoutmygoatspenthismorningandtheyhadalreadyknockedtheirwaterbucketoverthreetimes.Ilookedovertowardstheparkinglotandsawthehazyoutlineofmymomalmostlikeamirageinthedesert.Shewaswalkingswiftly,almostjoggingtowardsuswithmyclothesonhangersinherarms.Thearmsofthewhitebuttondownflappedbehindherlikeasurrender

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