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100 Words on Love, by Melissa Soalt
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I remember: my small hands tugging the wooden handles on my dresser, your treasures rattling inside: A red heart-shaped box containing a small perfume bottle. Valentine’s cards with jumbo X’s and O’s. Your cigar band rings which I flaunted on my fingers.
Five decades later I bring you hot drinks and cookies. The passage of time covering your slate-blue eyes dissolves with each unabashed dunk.
Keepsakes now abound in your dresser. You ask me to fetch one. As I reach toward the drawer, my heart flaps opens. The butterflies return.
A girl’s never too old to love her dad.
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