There is something to be said about a daddy's love and big calloused hands. Clara stood there holding her daddy, the man she loved for 22 years of her life, the man who gave his all for her, for Momma and for the farm. He gave her all his love even after Momma passed away. He only stopped working the day Momma passed away. Hard working only doing what had to be done. So serious, not cold, but the laughter had died with Momma and he was a broken man. Clara finally started putting two and two together somewhere between the last slam of her door, and her dreaming about earlier days, in the loft where they both stood.<br/><br/>"Daddy," Clara spoke softly with a few sniffles, "There is no blame to be put here, I dun figured it out. I ain't gonna pull no punches, there's enough hurtin goin on right here in this wee space between us right now." She gave her daddy a little squeeze before continuing. "Listen Daddy, what we have here is what Momma explained to me before she passed, is that we, you and me have only each other to depend upon, and I dreamed of Momma's lasagna and that purty dress you both bought for me when I was 8, remember daddy? I fell asleep right over yonder, collectin them purty colored eggs."<br/><br/>Clara brought a hand up to her daddy's chest, right about where his heart is. She gave it a light pat. "This is what is going on Daddy. Right here and here," she patted her own heart. "Momma called it flyin the coup. It happens when a child suddenly reaches adulthood, and is no longer a baby. I'm growed, blossomed like those roses by the house. I got my thorns, as you got yours. I hope Daddy, that no matter what happens in the days ahead, that I am always your Princess, but if that changes..I shall always be your daughter and You will always be my Daddy. And Daddy, I will always love you."