It snows a lot here. Rains too. One day I want to be in the spot where an avalanche is going to fall and have a Bigfoot swoop me up into his hairy arms at the last possible second on some kind of rope swing he uses to get around and have him take me back to his cave and wrap me in a bundle of blankets while we just sit around comparing our hand sizes for the zillionenth time.

       I guarantee his hands are the size of my torso. I’d promise to laugh every time. I am a tiny lady. My father used to pick me up and swoop me through the air and then fall onto the ground holding me up like some prize bird, with his left eye squinting to look at me.

       “You look like an angel…
                           if angels were terrible!”

      And I’d say Heyyyy!!! and he’d yell Heyyyyy and we’d both laugh and laugh as I rested secretly, breathing breathy-breath all over his hairy arms.

       When my father would come home from a day of work the first thing he would say to me, and he always remembered to, was I am very very excited to see that you have decided to not run away today. It left me with a surprised, crooked smile on my face every time. Sometimes he would change it up and say I am very very excited to see you weren’t hit by a car today. Sometimes he would begin saying it before he even opened the door. A crescendo of sorts: I am very exciTED YOU DECIDED… and I would cover my ears and scream and laugh and love him.

       It became an event. See how dad will change up his act this day to that day. I looked forward to that 4-6 second interaction every day. It was a clever routine that made the routine of days not so predictable.

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