A Song Called "Butterfly Kisses" MAG

January 13, 2012
By Michele Sampson BRONZE, New City, New York
Michele Sampson BRONZE, New City, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Plop! I dropped my purple dance bag overflowing with tap shoes, toe shoes, tights, leg warmers and all my other dance equipment. Next went the book bag off my back, and my overweight leather jacket. After placing my glasses on the table and rubbing the pain in my shoulder where my dance bag had been, I went to tell my mom and dad that I had arrived home safely, and kiss them good-night.

I leaned over the blue comforter my dad was cuddled under to give him a kiss, but instead, he pulled my cheek close to his face and blinked his eyes so that his eyelashes tickled my face. I honestly thought he had lost his mind and wondered what in the world he was doing. He told me he was giving me a butterfly kiss. I just stared at him.

He proceeded to tell me about a song he heard on the radio called “Butterfly Kisses.” When he heard it, it reminded him of me. I was slightly impressed, but really tired and decided it would be easier to go to sleep.

That Sunday, right after I arrived home from church, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, jumped into a pair of gray sweats, and removed my makeup. I was just about to make my mark on the beige couch in front of the television when my dad asked me if I would go to the store with him. Why not? He said I could drive.

Dads are great to go shopping with. Anything you put in the basket is all right with them. My dad is no exception. I think we ended up with four types of ice cream (vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and butter pecan), a cake, cookies, and the bread we originally went shopping for.

With brown bags covering the back seat, we were on our way home, when my dad said, “That’s it … turn up the radio.” “Butterfly Kisses” was playing.

I listened to the words and thought, My dad said this reminds him of me. Bob Carlyle, the singer and songwriter, told the story of the relationship with his daughter, and his memories of her growing from a young girl to her wedding day. What touched me the most was that the song suggested that the father must have done something great to deserve his daughter. Tears began to pour from my eyes. I tried to hide it from my father, but my nose started running, and my glasses started to fog up. He said, “Yeah, I know,” and I realized he was crying too.

I never felt as close to my father as I did that day. I love him very much, but like any teenage girl, I know I am tough to live with. Every once in a while I try to remind myself of the way I felt with my dad in the car that day, because it felt good. I look forward to the day I feel that close to him again – probably my wedding day when I dance with him to that song called “Butterfly Kisses.”

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