“Daddy-by Nancy B. BrewerWhen I used to say, speak up you are as good as they, You would just smile and say, let them have their way. When in my foolish youth, I so often disobeyed,He would just smile and say, let her have her way. When summer passed and winter overcame. He was not afraid, never once did he say. When in the moonlight his final hour came, He just smiled and said Lord I'll go your way.”

“I'm never going to get used to that," he said, smiling. "Used to what?""The way I feel like I'm going to explode every time you come close. The way my head fills up with just you when you do that.”

“What would you tell her about me?”He did not just ask that.“You did not just ask that.” She chuckled.“I’m serious,” he smiled.“Very well, if you must know, I would say that you are arrogant and foolish, too handsome for your own good and far too cognizant of your own intellect. Unbending, unsympathetic, dogmatic, pig-headed—”“Handsome?” he interrupted, unable to keep the smile from his face. “And intelligent?”“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Did you know Grandfather would give the poems to me?” I ask.“We thought he might,” my mother says.“Why didn’t you stop him?”“We didn’t want to take away your choices,” my mother says.“But Grandfather never did tell me about the Rising,” I say.“I think he wanted you to find your own way,” my mother says. She smiles. “In that way, he was a true rebel. I think that’s why he chose that argument with your father as his favorite memory. Though he was upset when the fight happened, later he came to see that your father was strong in choosing his own path, and he admired him for it.”

“Take her home."Nick fake salutes. "Sir,yes sir.""Sarcasm doesn't become you,Colt," Coach Walsh says,but he smiles when he says it, so obviously he is only mad at me,not superboy Nick Colt,beloved of coaches everywhere. If I were a guy he would let me run tomorrow.”

“He ran his hand from my wrist up to the crook of my elbow and then to my shoulder. “When I was a little kid, my dad would come to my room at night to say a prayer with me. He used to say, ‘Lord, We know there’s a little girl out there who’s meant for Henry. Please protect her and raise her up right.’” His voice changed to something slower and more country when he mimicked his dad. He smiled at the memory, and then he put his mouth near my ear and whispered. “You were that little girl.”