By Jennie Wheeling
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Father of the Bride
The dance, a command performance Daddy's Little Girl, the song yet the body held, a woman now. The man decorated in black and white struggles to hide the tears that threaten to expose themselves as each step, step draws them closer to the turning of another page. The teacher recalls the touch of weightless feet upon his own as they stepped, stepped to the sounds of heartbeats and laughter. The father remembers sleepless nights, and steps, steps that circled rooms filled with the whimsy of a little girl's dreams, and the lump in his throat when she brought the message he knew would come from one who was a child, is his child, is a woman, is another's bride.