The rough football felt big in my tiny palms. The wind whisked away my bleach blond hair. With a brown, beat up football in my hands, running down the field and my dad not too far behind me, I felt free. All the worry and stress felt like it didn't even exist, and I just felt free. I looked down at my 3 1/2 size feet sprinting to the touchdown, dirt and grass flying to the sky as I rushed past. I felt like a regular 5 year old tomboy playing football with her dad. In baggy shorts and a hand-me-down University of Michigan tee and my dad’s old ROYSA baseball hat tightened all the way and on backwards, I felt... normal. I know most girls in my first grade class never dress like me, they always wear dresses, skirts, and try to never get dirt on their clothes. I always played with the boys, getting messy and dirt in my hair. I was always like that, never really liked playing with the girls. Getting my mind back to the game, I realized that I was at the 10 yard line and almost to the end zone... then 5... and right as I ran past the touchdown, I looked back and I saw my dad watching me with the biggest smile ever.

I saw my dad jogging toward me, he stopped and bent down to catch his breath. We haven't had a lot of time to do this anymore, I thought. Between work, school, and taking care of my baby sister, Kristen, and my older sister, Regan, I haven't had a lot of down time with my dad. Dad stood up and looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes. He looked like a regular late 30s guy, full head of dark chocolate brown hair, hazel nut eyes, broad shoulders and a strong jaw bone. I noticed we didn’t really look a like, other than the strong jaw bone and our nose. I had bleach blond hair, and sometimes it looked white, and crystal blue eyes. I’m very short, at around 3 foot tall.. maybe even 3 and a half inches tall, with boney arms and legs, and so skinny that I could be anorexic.

“You’re getting a lot faster, Joe.” Dad says, taking me out of my thoughts, “I need to get more in shape to keep up with you. I think I may be getting too old to do this with you though.” He said smiling. My dad had never said my full name, ever since I was really little he would only call me ‘Joe’. I don’t mind though, I like that he has something to call me that no one else can.

“You may need to lay off all the twinkies and hoo hoo’s,” I teased him. “ What time is it? Mom might be getting annoyed that were not home before dinner.” I reminded him with a smirk. Mom never liked it when dad and I were late for dinner when we would go play. She said it was great that we got some bonding time in but if we weren't home before dinner then we would both get in trouble. Mom never really liked that I started getting into football, either. She says football isn’t a women’s sport, and that only men should be able to play football, but then again, my mom never tried to stop me from playing it with my guy friends.

Dad pulled out his flip phone and gave me an evil smile, “We have 5 minutes to get back home. I’m blaming it on you,” he said with his full hearted laugh as he ran away from me.

“But its not my fault!” I cried after him, “I reminded you to look!” Laughing also, I ran after my dad, who was carrying the beat-up football in his hands. “I won,” I remarked as I looked at the points I jotted down between starting games, “I beat you by 2 points!” I exclaimed with the brightest smile on my face. All my dad did was look down at me, and laugh as he picked me up and set me on his shoulders as we walked back home.