When I was five years old my older sister, one of my older brothers and I were talking about who we were going to marry when we grew up. I piped up (I was always "piping up"...) "I'm going to marry daddy, Victoria [my older sister] can marry Uncle Jim and John can marry mummy". It was set in stone on that day and I looked forward to it. The years passed and I realized that marrying my father was of course out of the question, but this didn't change or impish my love and respect for this man who could do no wrong...and in turn I could do no wrong to.

I can vividly remember being a small child and searching out my father when I wanted a story or a kiss or a cuddle. I remember sitting on his lap at my grandparent's house and my grandfather commenting that I was a "Daddy's Girl" if he'd ever seen one -- I wouldn't leave him alone if he was around. I remember walking with him places and him taking me skating in the winter and talking to him about baseball and hockey -- in fact I will never forget the first hockey game he took me to as a child...how could I?

He hung the moon for me from the moment I can remember knowing who he was. I remember many nights that he read to me while I fell asleep. Other nights when he would carry me upstairs wrapped in a blanket to my bed when I fell asleep on the sofa in the living room, trying to stay awake with him to watch hockey on Saturday night.

My father has been my knight in shining armor for as long as I can remember -- in fact I can't recall a time in my life when I wouldn't look at him and feel anything but love and adoration. To him I have always been a little girl who needed to be taken care of - who required cuddling, support and a certain amount of indulgence. Now that I'm a grown woman with an intellect as well as life of her own he sees me -- I hope -- as an equal who is happy to receive as well as give constructive criticism. We still cuddle...just not in the same way that we used to...which sometimes makes me sad. We don't touch but it's there, the love, in our voices, in what we say and what we do.

Although now S. has taken my father's place as the one I will one day marry, my dad is the original"man" in my life (I finally found one who measured up). We both tried to honor my dad this past Father's Day by having my parents over for dinner and for dessert I made this gorgeous Strawberry Cake, wowing him with the presentation as well as the taste.