(As if there’s any shortage of that here … )
One thing I don’t like is my daughter’s birthday. She’s got one coming up.
Each year, I conspire with my parents and other family members and friends (these are three separate entities) to throw some kind of bash for Kalista. It typically involves renting something, streamers and a $40 cake.
And I end up filling out invitations.
Plus there’s some other stuff.
I’m not complaining about the work. I will do anything for my daughter – especially celebrate achievements and milestones.
But what about me?
TONIGHT MY DAUGHTER looked at her bucket of bath toys, then up at me from the tub and said,
“Daddy, we can donate my bath toys. I’m too old for them.”
What I heard: “Father, you know all those good times we had? They’re done. And if you don’t get it this time just like you didn’t all the other times since my first day of kindergarten, I’ll remind you with something heartbreaking again next week.”
I paused, holding the towel.
She hadn’t technically needed me in the bathroom to help her bathe in more than a year.
I liked it more when I was needed.
Kalista is one of the few persons I’ve known for more than a year and still love. She is the only person whose sheer presence reminds me not to be cynical, melodic laugh makes me smile and sweet embrace reduces me to a grinning barrel of sappiness.
She takes another step out the door of my life every day.
I READ A lot of blogs. I love blogs because they are honest. Authors of blogs have not been distracted by the pressures of writing for print, which calls for stellar grammar and flawless punctuation … not to mention concerns over exactly what he or she is writing. You get none of that with blogs.
And if one can sift through the misspelled words (although there’s no excuse for that), improperly used ellipses and confusion over words such as “its,” “a lot” and “whose,” blogs can reveal information not found anywhere else.
Now folks are going to great lengths to get their ducks in a row and accomplish said goals before they’re a certain age. (Just to be safe, maybe? I don’t know.)
I’ve also seen bucket lists for children – things their parent, parents, guardian or guardians want them to do before they’re too old to be interested. I can’t lie – I did something similar with Kalista, but her list included one item and that was accomplished when we went to Disney World last Christmas.
But that wasn’t a “list.” That was just something I wanted to do before she stopped believing in fairy tales …
… because I knew the day would come …
… just like I knew the day would come when she didn’t want toys in the bath tub …
… just like I know the day will come when her life does not include nights in the chair with her father.
SO THAT IS WHY I do not like my daughter’s birthdays. I do not like the fancy cake, the streamers, the smiling faces and laughter or even holding the piñata. The days preparing only bring on this pain sooner rather than later.