Almonds

I haven't spoke with him for about four years nor have I had the chance to look into his eyes. I remember when he was the center of my world and I was the light of his. Almost every weekend I knew I was going to a second world, and it was my home away from home. I remember walks to playgrounds/parks, and adventures through the woods. Checkers and Monoply, pro-wrestling matches, and late night snacks. I remember his jokes and our endless talks about everything in the world, and the sound of his voice echoes in my head.

My artwork wallpapered his room and hung throughout the house. The wonderful aroma of my grandmother's cooking hung heavy in the air. The house was a maze that was built for a child's imagination. It was big and old and it's wood floors creaked from years of use. I spent what seemed like hours exploring the rooms and discovering ones I thought never existed. The backyard was filled with treasures and huge trees to climb. There were pathways that led to all different hide-aways in the woods. Some of which I've never discovered, and that I'll never have the chance to again.

I loved the feeling of security that radiated from his presence. He was a tall dark giant to a little girl and his eyes--almond-shaped that unlocked doors to his past. His hair thick and wavy like mine, and I can still smell cigarettes and cologne. I haven't spoke with him for about four years nor have my almond-shaped blue eyes had the chance to look into his. Where did you go? Are you okay? Should I even care?
I miss my dad.