A Dad's Daughter...

"I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you..."
- Paul Simon, Father and Daughter

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ
The Paz Files

RIO GRANDE CITY, Texas - Late for supper, Pablo Benitez set his signal and sped around a muddied truck carrying grapefruit before passing a car full of kids, this one being driven by a stoic-looking Mom. Laura would be home and he hadn't seen her in months, home from school upstate. He'd talked to her briefly on the phone earlier in the day and told her he'd try and be home for dinner. It was now almost eight. Trouble at work had extended his day, something still unresolved about an employee at his insurance office saying something she should not have said to a policyholder. Aggravating work stuff, he knew.

At a quiet intersection, where he usually turned right to head into his neighborhood, Pablo spotted an opening at the corner store and beelined for the parking spot. He'd get her a few of the single roses he'd seen displayed near the register many times before. Laura loved flowers. In fact, he was sure she loved life. Twenty years old. How times flies, he thought as he reached for his wallet to pay for the flowers.

A few years earlier, she had been the family rebel, wild with wanting to hurry life, with needing to be an adult, with this thing she thought was the most important thing in life - being left alone by her parents. She'd not been in trouble with the law. It was her battles with Mom that had taxed Pablo, had placed him between the two. He'd hated it and often stayed late at work to avoid the ongoing war. Laura had her freinds, most of whom her Mom did not like. There was a by named Joe who did his best to look homeless and speak in gruntings only he could understand. And there was Patty, her classmate who smoked and, rumors had it, was an easy girl. Pablo had survived all that. Laura had completed her high school studies and was now in her second year at Baylor in Waco.

He'd been up there twice, on the day she first moved into the dorms and that one Christmas when she'd not wanted to make the long drive home. Pablo placed the flowers on the front passenger seat after sliding into his vehicle. He recalled she'd said something about wanting to forget the Rio Grande Valley, to finsih college and move farther north, to Dallas, perhaps Chicago. He'd asked her about it and Laura had said, "I don't get the Valley thing, Dad. It's too passive and there's no future for me there." He'd nodded and wondered.

As he moved down his street, Pablo ran a few things across his brain. What would he say to her, what would he do first? She was now a young woman, not there so much to take orders anymore. He was proud of her. And there were no stories or rumors chasing her home. He inhaled deeply as he moved into the house's driveway. Seconds later, his life brightened.

Laura was running out of the home toward him, her face gleaming real love, her arms outstretched and ready for the hugs he loved. She looked beautiful.

"I love you, Dad," she said when at his side...

- 30 -