The cutest pink converse high tops dangle from my toothpick legs. These shoes are the best. They were so expensive I think. He lifted me into the big truck so they wouldn’t get messed up in the snow. Mom would be so mad if I already wrecked them.
Oliveoil he calls me, from Popeye, you know? We are both skinny like string beans, he says. I wiggle under my seatbelt that is totally made of cardboard and peel my jeans from the sticky seat. Vinyl, or something like that, is what my mom says it is, I say it is plastic and FA-REEZING when it is a bazillion degrees below zero outside.
I so hate my teeth chattering but I love this day more than being warm. Snow swallowed the streets and sidewalks and no one can drive anywhere until my Dad fixes them. Usually this would totally stink for a Saturday. Not today though. I was jumping in the air, in front of my brothers of course, when he said I could come along.
Blankets of snow have me all wrapped in Dad’s truck, I am taller than basically everything outside, except the trees. I watch the dirty ground appear as we go back and forth, back and forth. A big shovel thing does all the work. He hooked it on this morning and now we just have to drive and eat. The eating is my favorite.
We have been everywhere. First he took me for donuts. Oh my gosh, I loved this part. We went to this bakery everyone from school gets birthday treats from. Stuff is so expensive there, we seriously only go there once a year, but now I went twice. My brothers didn’t.
Dad got cream filled and me? Pink on pink with sprinkles, matched my shoes so perfectly I almost didn’t eat it.
So anyway, this is what we do. We eat a little, Dad drives and gets rid of snow and his truck sprays that salt stuff on the road and then, when we need more salt or whatever, we eat some more.
My stomach is SO exploding from a bacon double cheeseburger at lunch but I’m not saying anything because we need gas soon which means candy and a slushy drink.
Seriously this is one of the best days ever. School and those nasty girls and my crooked teeth and my big glasses… snow is covering them all up.
We are on like, hour number eight right now and my ear muffs are sort of digging into my head but I don’t care. I can hear my dad’s stories right through them. Dad took off his hat so he can hear me really good over this noisy truck. He’s cold I bet.
I sit up high and watch Dad. This is his second job, you know. He has another one during the week.
I go to Catholic school. These days are for me.
I’m the only girl in this whole snowy world.
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This piece was inspired by the Red Dress Club prompt: Write a piece, fiction or non-fiction, inspired by the delicious shot. Word limit is 600.
This story is non-fiction. I really do have a dad this good but sadly, do not have a metabolism quite this good anymore.
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So sorry I’m only getting to reading this now!
It such a sweet piece, no pun intended. Your POV is great, a child’s voice with a touch of adult’s understanding, and I love the map of eating, donuts, cheeseburgers, gas station snacks–my Dad used to bring me to the office if he had to work Saturday mornings, and I always got donuts with the secretaries. Funny how that came back.
School and those nasty girls and my crooked teeth and my big glasses… snow is covering them all up.
That line says a lot so simply. Isn’t it wonderful how snow can cover up a multitude of ugly sins?
I enjoyed the child’s voice…very authentic and full of appropriate awe. What a wonderful daddy, too!
What a wonderful memory.
I loved those one-on-one moments spent with just one parent. Especially my dad. 🙂
Although I’m not a fan of pink, I’ve ALWAYS been a strawberry frosting doughnut girl!
I used to be a daddy’s girl before my parents divorced when I was eight. Your story reminded me of the special times I got to share with just my dad and no younger sisters. You did a great job. Thanks for sharing-
You write so beautifully… lovely to read xoxo
This was obviously a special time. You remember it so vividly.
Your writing is beautiful, I felt like I was way up high with you.
Beautiful! I love how you write this from your child perspective. The details, the love…I could see and feel it all. What a wonderful memory, What an amazing dad. XO
Oh, I love the voice you use here. Brilliant choice, well executed. I could feel myself shivering right next to “little” you.
I love it!! I can just picture it perfectly.
I read this just after reading Galit’s post. You both have a beautiful ebb and flow, but it’s different… On Galit’s, hers reads like a series of small hills, with one or two lines grouped together. Yours has about 4 lines together, and it feels like we’re travelling over a series of medium hills. I think reading hers I got the feel of very young children, and in your I got the feel of a slightly older child; I’m not sure how much that has to do with the “small” versus “medium” hills, but it works!
The end of your story switches to “small hills”, which to me is like the signal that, instead of travelling along the long stretches of roads from here to there, we have come to the short series of turns in our own neighborhood that take us to our own driveway. We know we’re almost home.
I love the way you wrote this kind of like a child would. Excellent perspective! And I adore that the snow covered up the things that she didn’t like so much… What a good read! 🙂
Oh, I’m SO glad you decided to write this this week!
The wording was so accurate, just as a child would write. It made this so much more vivid and visible to the reader. I think the shoes stood out most for me… how bright they were against the snowy exterior.
I have no concrit to offer here.. just wanted to let you know it was much enjoyed! 🙂
What a great memory. I would agree with Leighann – I love that you used words that a young girl would use.
Your descriptions put me right into the action. Of course, I am a little jealous now, and would very much have liked to have had a pair of pink Converse shoes when I was a kid.
What a great memory! I love that you remember your shoes so specifically. I have a really clear memory of the shoes I wore on my second grade field trip. A lot of those long ago memories are of my shoes. I must have spent a lot of time looking at them!
Great piece. And a beautiful memory. It evoked all kinds of memories for me.
My favorite part is how you expressed your teenage voice–I could hear her word choice and inflection. That made the story so real.
Visiting from TRDC
…daddy daughter relationships can be this good! I miss my Dad he passed away when I was 22 and reading this brought back fond memories. I’m grateful that my daughters have a really tight bond with their daddy! Thank you for sharing.
I’m sorry that your dad is no longer here with you.
I love that the words were words a girl would use.
Not a memory.
I really felt like I was there with her during this very important day.
Her day.
This line, “Dad took off his hat so he can hear me really good over this noisy truck.” Was wonderful and so heartfelt.
Your last line is perfect.
Okay, I have to say I’ve never someone else who was nicknamed Oliveoil. I had that name as well. To be truthful, I wasn’t so fond of it, but it fit me as I was really skinny as a kid.
Your story about riding with your dad is delightful. I can feel the warmth you felt being with him the the snowplow and having the special day. I felt like I was riding along with you. Even though there wasn’t dialogue, you captured the little girl and her father very well in your descriptions.
This was heart-warming read and brought back memories. Thanks for sharing it:~)
This was great. I really like the picture you painted and as the father of a daughter I hope that I give her great memories like your father did for you.
I love that this is a real memory. You did a great job conveying your excitement on this day. And I loved the part when you talk about being so full, but you won’t say anything because you know you’ll stop for candy and a slushie. That’s definitely what a kid would do!
You did a great job keeping the voice of the child consistent throughout Great job!
I’m freeing after reading this but what a great day to spend to with Dad.
daddies and daughters, that is one relationship I know and the good stuff, you found it, captured it. I was in that truck, feeling all the bumps, hearning my dad’s voice over the engine and plow.
What a great piece.
I love how you’re writing from your little-girl self. The language is just as I imagine you thinking at that age. It’s amazing what memories a simple doughnut can reflect. Thank you for sharing.
Great read – I loved how you were able to sound like a little girl while still sounding eloquent. Does that make sense? Great voice.
SO well done! YOU did it!!! I loved the way you captured this tender moment between father and daughter. The awkward pain of nonacceptance at school gently covered by a father’s unconditional love.
Beautiful, my sweet friend in the pink converse.
Brilliant! You did an amazing job making the imagery interesting and beautiful while still making it sound like it was all coming from the mind of a little girl. Really well done.
I love this! It is such a sweet story, so beautifully written.
School and those nasty girls and my crooked teeth and my big glasses… snow is covering them all up.
I love this line. Great writing.
I love this story. Daddy and daughter days can be the best thing, even if it’s something simple. I really like that you wrote this from a child’s perspective.
I loved all of the imagery, the details, the voice that you captured so perfectly.
I really got a glimpse of your story. These words were so very real; I felt lie I was inside your head: “Pink on pink with sprinkles, matched my shoes so perfectly I almost didn’t eat it.”
And that last line? I hope that I make my kids feel that important, listened to and unique!
Galit… I hope you see the comment I made comparing Jessica’s story and yours! 🙂
Love this! Reminds me of the special outings I would get with my dad. Usually they involved a gas station, a rare and treasured soda, and a bag of Ms. Now I have to go call my Daddy! 🙂
I’m the only girl in this snowy world …
LOVE it Jessica.
So visual and perfect from a child’s perspective!
This is beautiful, well done.
You brought me back to my memories of black and white cookies with my father, our special “just the two of us” treat.
What a lovely memory, and story you have made of it. I remember those just me and Dad times, with him at work. How special it always was. Wish we could order up those scrawny kid metabolisms again, huh?