A couple weeks into quarantine, I got a phone call from my brother. I heard that dreaded tone in his voice, reflexively caught my breath, and steadied myself as he cut to the chase: “Dad is sick; I think he needs a Covid test.”
My father bestowed an ever-evolving nickname on me: Little Miss Muffet — you know, the one who sat on her tuffet eating her curds and whey. As I got older, he shortened it to Miss Muffet, which eventually became Muffin or, simply, Muff. That changing name mirrored years of adjusting our father-daughter bond as I became a young woman. Throughout our changing relationship and all my mistakes and shortcomings, one thing remained true: my father loved me unconditionally.
Featured Image, Nicole Baker Fulgham & Father
Full article @ Nicole Baker Fulgham, Medium