December 5: Freezing Cold, Daughter's Birthday, Wishes for Daughter

You wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all.  There was hardly any snow on the sidewalks.  But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my pocket and put it on--I didn't give a damn how I looked...

Well, all the schools were closed today, except for the university.  It wasn't that snowy, but it was, as Holden says, freezing cold.  All the snow that came down yesterday hardened into bricks of ice.  The parking lots were hockey rinks, and my hands turned into hand-cicles as I walked across campus.

My daughter was happy to have the day off from school on her thirteenth birthday.  What thirteen-year-old wouldn't?  I tried to convince her I had arranged the bad weather, but she didn't buy my story.  She had a great day, being a couch potato.  Playing computer games.  Annoying her five-year-old brother.  Basically, being a teenager.

I remember those first days she came home from the hospital after she was born.  I would sit on our couch in the middle of the night, holding her, thinking of all the wishes I had for her.  I wished she would have passion, for reading and writing and art and dance and music.  I wished she would have happiness with every breath she took.  I wished she would know love each second of her life.

Now that she's a surly seventh grader, my wishes for her haven't changed.  I still wish for her to have passion and happiness and love, even more than when she was just days old.  I've seen her leap and spin across a stage.  She's written poems that have made me cry.  She drew a stunning city-scape in her art class.  She's grown into such a wonderful young lady.

Thirteen years ago on this day, I wished upon a star, and my wish came true.

Happy birthday, my sweet daughter.

And that's a piece of Saint Marty's mind.  And heart.