
Her tiny feet spun around pulling her little body into twirling spheres and made her hair fly straight out in a beautiful confusion of golden threads. Pure glee filled her face and those eyes brimming with old world looks sparkled and scattered joy to my heart. At that moment I was transported to being her age. The tender age of four. Where cardboard boxes became boats and houses and my sleepy head rested trustingly on my father’s shoulder as he carried me from the car (half asleep) up the stairs to lay me gently in bed. “Goodnight daddy” I’d whisper and he would slip away leaving me to disappear into dream land. There were times that he’d lay on the floor in the evenings and we would play “airplane”. “Again, again daddy” I’d squeal as his feet took me flying and soaring above him. Suddenly I’m jolted back to the reality of now. Orphans in India don’t have daddies or mommies. The only touch from an adult that they may have had could be in the form of a stinging imprint left on their cheek…and consequently their hearts. Father’s Day is tomorrow and if you haven’t found the perfect gift for your father consider donating in his honor. If you don’t have a father figure in your life then consider reaching out to a child who also understands what it means to not have a daddy.
{Amazing hat by Unveiled Bridal Designs. Maybe I could be the third Middleton sister 😉 }
{Photos by: Jenn Lynn Images}



















