Bat Girl
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There are a handful of pictures of us together. Our faces side by side, touching. My face smiling, or serious. She always looks so happy, snuggled in close. Soaking me in.
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That's when I was her Daddy.
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Since turning forty I have been learning the art of accomodation. Really I am only getting the introductory course. Accomodation 101, freshman disappointment. I remember when she turned two and her mom and I used to miss that little fat baby she'd been. But we had that brilliant, vivid two year old and that almost wiped out the memory of the baby that came first. The same when she turned five, or seven, or nine. Eleven. Thirteen.
But this year its like some great tall-masted ship that's slipped her moorings and gone to sea in the middle of the night.
I'm standing on the end of the dock, a frayed line in my hand, bewildered, staring at the empty horizon.
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She's going to be an incredible woman.
Just not soon enough for her.
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Sometimes I just bust out sobbing for no reason at all.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 8:01 PM
7 Comments:
parenthood is a box of kleenex!
great, that's what i have to look forward to.
gratefully,
stepdad of a 5 yr old,
jack
Ever read Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon? Your photograph reminded me of that book. If you haven't read it, I think you'd like it.
dishwasher,
Thanks for stopping by the other day. I've missed coming to your place, so here I am. I always feel like I've dropped by an old friend's home, and it's a haven in the wilderness, a stagecoach stop in the dusty southwest, and you are the sage, humble, and loving ferryman who taught Siddhartha so much and who he returned to.
Namaste!
Billy
yeah...having kids is a terrible joy. Every stage brings laughter and sorrow. And then they have to break away and that can be painful. But to see an individual made up of two other individuals is like some big crazy experiment -- you want to close your eyes, but still you just can't help peeking. I have a 19 year old (almost 20) and a 9 year old (10 next week) and 8 year old. They exhaust me emtionally, mentally and physically. I'd probably already be dead if I didn't have them.
i found your blog through sprigs - and i have to say, this entry really moved me.
the image of a man, on a dock, holding a frayed end of rope, will be with me for a long time.
Wonderful, wonderful post. So many truths and so well said.
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