Father Daughter Dance
    On a warm Saturday night of 1999 a nine year old girl was getting ready for the annual father daughter dance.  She had braided pigtails, blue jeans, and bright red cowboy boots.  Her mother beeped at the horn and the girl ran to the car, hopped in, and turned around to smile a toothless grin at her father.  The girl’s mother dropped them off at the school gymnasium to a room full of dancing fathers and daughters.  The girl grabbed hold of the handlebars on her father’s wheelchair and danced the best she could.  One of the teachers noticed the girl and pulled her aside to see if she would dance with one of the other fathers because the wheelchair seemed to get in the way.  The girl smiled and replied “No thanks, my dad’s the best dancer in the room!  I would never trade him in.” 
    This was the first time that I realized that because of my father’s Multiple Sclerosis, our family was different.  Having a
quadriplegic father limits physical activities but I have learned so much from him.  He has many helpers who have all
become like family.  I grew up in such a strong and loving environment.  My father’s spirit and strength, though not physical, have taught me to appreciate every thing that I have.  I know that I will never have a “normal” father daughter dance, and I will never we walked down the isle, but hey, normal is boring and rolling isn’t too bad.   

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Synopsis
Father Daughter dance..college essay
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