Recently while waiting to board a flight, I made eye contact with a woman standing nearby. She looked to be well into her seventh decade; she seemed quite content, healthy and able. Her pleasant face was lined like a road map; a telling story of her life, travels, successes and inevitably, even failures. Like the rings inside a tree trunk, her wrinkles reflected all the years that life has given her. Reminiscent of a delicate Irish lace veil, her lines offered proof her life has been a well-lived journey. 

Dear Daddy,

I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I know... it's been 15 years since we last talked. I have grown in this interim; I think you'd be so proud of me. 

I'm sure you must remember me. I could never forget you. I'm the one whom you raped and tortured for many years. Did I forget to mention your friends, who also abused me under your watch?

I always wanted to be “Daddy’s Girl.” The kind of little girl who makes her daddy smile “just because.”

Because she is the apple of his eye and he is her hero, she and daddy share a beautiful bond. Like glue, they have a connection that mends all of life’s ups and downs. Unless mother prevents that.