The Hands Get Higher

I know this is a second post in a week. I also know that I have in the past talked about posting more often.  I would love to say that this is the beginning of bi-weekly updates, and while that is a goal, it’s not one that I’m going to commit too.  Just know that I have a desire to write more and will do so as much as I can… Anyway on to it.

I have had this really cool opportunity to spend time with my daughters, and to watch them get bigger and all that good stuff. At 41, I’m a pretty blessed guy on many fronts.

20150426_154831[1]20150426_154556[1]20150215_163000[1]

There is a problem though when you have daughters and only daughters, something happens, they break you… Now I don’t mean in the sense that they break your will to live, although I would have to say that there are times that seems true.  I mean they break your manly bravado… you know what I mean, that stoic, manly not going to cry thing.  In the past years I have been more and more prone to shedding a few tears at movies, tv shows, songs, or just looking at my girls come down the stairs dressed for some outing.

I’ve asked all of them to stay small…and well none of them have.  I can pretty much say with certainty that the oldest 2 didn’t really want to and would roll their eyes and all that good stuff.  Not Me Me.  I told her the other day to stay just this size, as I swept her up in my arms and held her close.  She said okay daddy I’ll stop growing…  It’s funny all three of my girls are mine, but Me Me is a different kind of mine if that makes sense. Likely because she’s the last one, anyway.  She has promised me she won’t get any bigger, and as cute as it is and as much as I wish it were true, as much as I wish I could freeze time for all three of us and keep us in some sort of stasis bubble, the reality of life keeps forcing itself into my world.

One of my favorite things to do is hold my kids hands.  I don’t know why it just is the way it is.  I like holding their little hands. Equally awesome is when they grab one of my fingers.  With the oldest two there came a time when they decided that holding dad’s hand wasn’t all that cool a thing to do.  One of my favorite things is when they forget that they are supposed to not need or want to hold my hand any more and they just grab my hand as we walk down the sidewalk, those moments are just really spectacular and I’m usually pretty glad I have sunglasses that cover my eyes pretty much completely at that point.  With each of them I’ve been fascinated by the way the hands get higher…and as they do I find myself becoming less needed, as the days slip by, as they grow, as they change as they move past their dad, I find loads of pride in my soul, but I also find a profound sense of melancholy, or maybe it’s just a pity party for myself because I realize that there is coming a day that I will have to give them to someone else.  That there will be a dance, and a kiss, and a handing off and well, then I’ll move to a different place of importance in their life, my influence will diminish, instead of hey dad look, instead of the myriad crafts that Zoey makes, instead of the 12-year-old plopping on the couch to hang with dad and asking to play a game or watching a show, instead of Me Me running into the room telling me she had the awesomest dream with wolf and a cheetah, it’ll be hey dad how’s it going, hows mom well have a good day bye.

Today it hit me three times , Amberly has her first phone, Zoey has her first dance, and Me Me’s hand isn’t nearly as low as it should be, no matter how much she promises she is going to break that promise, and while I want all my children to keep their word, this is one that I will have to deal with being broken.  In fact this is one that I want her to break, because as much as I love all three of them, as much as I want to keep them all to myself, that wouldn’t be fair.

I have awesome girls, and the world needs them, it needs their creativity, and strength and love, and faith.  It needs them.  It just hope and pray that they will realize that I need them too.  That every so often they need to come back and plop on the couch, or grab my hand walking down the sidewalk, or tell me hey dad I had the awesomest dream.

One response to “The Hands Get Higher

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s