So, my daughter left on Friday night, and now my wife is picking her up. It's snowing and dark, so the drive is not going to be fun. I stayed home with our son. Too much work to get done.
Four years ago, my daughter was celebrating her twelfth birthday. It was a lot simpler to make her happy then. And cheaper.
December 5, 2012: Hugged His Daughter, Heart's Content, Daughter's Birthday
"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
Bob Cratchit is a family man. His whole life revolves around his wife and children. It's why he works for Scrooge. Bob doesn't like being abused by his employer, but he has to endure the abuse to keep his family housed and clothed and fed. In the passage above, Bob is welcoming his daughter home on Christmas Day.
Today is my daughter's twelfth birthday. I called her this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to her. She is a great girl, despite the normal pubescent tantrums and crying fits. Last night, I attended her Christmas choral concert. As I watched her with her classmates, singing, smiling, laughing, dancing, I kind of felt like Bob Cratchit does: I wanted to hug her to my heart's content. As we were leaving the auditorium, the mother of one of my daughter's friends said, "I can't believe how old they are. I was watching your daughter. She looks so grown up. I couldn't believe it was her."
Sometimes, I feel the same way. I don't know what I did to deserve such a good kid. She goes to church twice every weekend, serves as an acolyte, plays the piano and flute, and attends dance classes almost every day. She's smart and gorgeous. After all the rocky times we've had in our family with mental illness and whatnot, I can't believe I have such a wonderful little girl as a daughter.
I know I'm supposed to write about my worries on Wednesdays. However, I'm taking this Wednesday off. I don't want to focus on what's wrong with my life right now. I want to focus on one very big right in my life: my daughter.
She is one Saint Marty's greatest joys.
|Can you see the love in her eyes?|