Nine Years

A Stella Short Memoir

The first nine years as your daughter, I expect I learned more than I ever would again. Fond memories of curling up in your lap after you came home from work, the scruff of your beard tickling my cheeks as you spoke about your day, or whatever was happening on the 6 o’clock news. Punkin’, you called me, always with a kiss on the lips, Old Spice lingering on the collar of your button-down shirt, even after a…