Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Daddy & Daughter

Number Two and Husband are pictured here moments before she flew back, husband along, to Casablanca. On our last bonfire, two nights before, she read aloud, in the intimacy of family, the poem she wrote for Husband that she never got around to read at the wedding festivities. We all agreed that the family-fire was the perfect setting for this gift of hers to her daddy, as neither of them has the extrovert personality shared by moi and... Number Three. Here it is, with her permission.


I think you’ve known for a while now
Possibly since that top-hat themed tap dance recital
When I was 6 years old
That I’m not much of a dancer.
You’ve also known for a very long time
That I usually like doing things my own way
So this is how I wanted to do our little public “moment:”

I remember that picture I drew at Oakgrove preschool
of a cat, and you next to it, sneezing
I was so, so proud of that picture
And couldn’t wait to bring it home for you.
I was crushed when the teacher told me to cut it up
To make a picture weave
She said I could draw another, but my 5-year old mind knew
Only the original would cut it.

I remember our trips out to Konza, with my bright printed shorts and oversized teeshirts,
I’d sit and doodle as you did some science-y work things with those other people.
I was happy to feel the sun and watch the clouds and the crickets
Till you came to get me.

In New Jersey we checked out library books about microbes
Understanding almost nothing, I read them for you
But what I loved was making our compost outside
And showing you how well my radishes were doing.
When I won that science fair prize
It was for you.

I remember your trips to Hungary, how long they took.
And visiting daddy’s office at KSU, its smell of cold coffee
And that basement room of preserved animals.
I remember coloring fractals for you, and being so proud seeing them on display.
I remember you trying to help me with algebra, and me sighing “I’ll never get a 4.0!”
But I guess you knew better.
I remember listening with rapt attention as you read aloud to us
of hobbits and mathematicians and mysterious islands.

I am one of many, but never felt overlooked.
My memories go on, we’ll all continue making them
And I’ll have so many things to tell my children, our children,
About their big, sweet grandpa.

Because I’ll always be your little girl
And I’ll always love you, daddy.
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1 comment:

Ana Braga-Henebry said...

I was one of many but I never felt overlooked".

Every parent should be lucky enough to hear this from a child.

Thank you for these words, Claudia, and thanks, Aninha, for transcribing Claudia's poem.

Loved the pictures of the new home. I can't believe you are moved so fast.....................
Beautiful message of thanks for your friend Nancy.