Like most girls my age, I have a special connection with my
dad. Unfortunately, he’s in the military, so he spends a lot of time overseas.
I worry about him when he’s away because, you know, anything could happen.
That’s when I bring out my favorite photo. It’s a picture
of him when he finished his first-ever marathon. He’s kind of a small guy, and
he’s really skinny. We used to joke that just the sight of him would give the
Kenyans second thoughts. His clothes are dusty, but he’s got this big goofy
grin on his face. Whenever I look at that picture, I imagine that, wherever he
is, my dad is happy, with the same goofy grin.
[...]
My story starts with me looking for the picture. It’s gone
missing. I don’t know it at the time, but the picture was stolen. Someone took
it because they knew how much it meant to me. If I had known the picture held
so much power, I would have guarded it more closely.
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