I'm always safe with you.

You'll never know how badly and deeply I want to make you proud.  And when you keep me home on weekend nights, you'll never know how badly I want to sneak out and run away.  But I never will because I know when I'm home and with you, I'm safe.  

Because your hands are so safe.  They're brown and callused and thick, pumping with warm blood.  And I know when you play with my hair it's because you love me, even though it doesn't feel as good as when mom does it.  

When you keep me home on those weekend nights, away from my best friends that I love with all my heart, I want to scream so loud that you have to let me go.  But I know that you only keep me here because you love me.  You tell me every time I say good night.  And I don't remember a night that you haven't.  

Even when it's way too late and I'm so mad, and you regret what you just said to me.  I storm out of the room only hoping you'll come meet me in mine.  But you never do, because you know I need that time to cool off.  And you know I'll be back in at least five minutes with big tears, my lip out, and my heart swollen and open, ready for a big bear hug from my daddy.  

And from those nights, that aren't too often, is when I learn my most important lessons.  I don't remember the words we speak at all, but I remember the warm, safe feeling that rushes over me every time.  

I remember we would rent old John Wayne western movies, and we'd laugh for hours and hours.  You loved me to watch them with you... I'll never know why.

When I leave at the end of this summer, I'll be ready.  Because the hours in the hot, sweaty sun, working in the yard, weeding, and planting, and shoveling and raking, that has prepared me.  And getting up at six thirty every morning to read scriptures, every single morning, has built me.  When we were kids, we would talk during church like every other family.  But unlike any other Dad in the whole ward, you would bring us to choir practice after church and make us sit in silence listening, for the entire hour, with our arms folded.  I hated that so much.  

Someday I'll look back and realize I'm doing the exact same to my daughter.  I really hope I do.