My Friend

I have this friend, arguably my best friend in the entire world...definitely in the top-most tier of buds, pals, what-have-you.  I've known him all my life, and he's always been there for me no matter what. 

1987: Sam, the family dog, passed away.  It was hard on everyone.  My friend showed up the next day with a little black puff of fur that won the hearts of the entire family.  Curly became our collective best bud, and he kept us company for eighteen wonderful years after that.

1988: I was seven years old when my best kiddo-pal down the block moved to Utah.  My friend understood and helped me to convince Momma Lady that I really could take care of my very own kitten.  That kitten and Curly became inseparable, and Kiki - I couldn't say kitty-kitty - became my personal protector.

1989: My friend showed up one evening with a pink Schwinn Fair Lady bicycle for my birthday.  It was perfect: vintage, a dark dusty rose color with a brand-new white banana seat.  I rode that thing for years, even blazing around the BMX track and completing my now-infamous no-footer over the plateau.  The boys never looked at me the same after that.

I could go on and on for days, weeks, years, telling you about some of the things he did for me while I was a kid.  Seeing as how none of us have that kind of time, I'll jump ahead to my adulthood.

2005: My friend made me giggle by being his usual goofy self during my wedding rehearsal, and that was all I could think about as he and I prepared to walk down the aisle the next day to meet my future.

2007: My friend became a grandfather, and he has devoted his life to adoring that little girl ever since.

My friend, as you may have guessed, is my father, better known in these parts as Pop.  Now, I know it may seem odd for a grown woman to count her daddy among her very best friends in the world, but I say screw convention.  This dude is the life of the party, and I will be a daddy's girl until the day I die.

Happy birthday, Pop.  I love you, man.