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As a little girl, I remember coming home from school and playing until I thought it was time for my daddy to get off work. I would play with my dolls, take my puppy and my three-year-old brother for a walk in my little red wagon, and jump on the trampoling. However, the highight of my day consisted of waiting by the door for my daddy to come home from the woods. My daddy would pull into the driveway at 6:15 every evening. I would run for him with my arms wide open as the door to his little blue Isuzu cracked. My daddy would look at me smiling, and I was so happy to see him. However, I remember hearing him say, "Don't rub against Daddy's nasty clothes, princess. I'm too dirty." My eyes would flood with tears, and I couldn't understand why my hero could not hold me until after he had taken a shower. Although I consider my da