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.

Daddy:

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.