How much I love my dad... or: thoughts on father's day.

You kept your fingers crossed as she teetered around during her first steps.  With your hands ready to catch her as waddled towards a chair, your heart glowed with pride.  Those first steps kept you feeling anticipation... as you too, walked beside her through the super market.  Eyes darting, you knew the world has dangers unimaginable yet, though time moves relatively, time with her is limited.

During her first day at kindergarden, you wanted nothing more than to hold her hand when she walked up to a group of unfamiliar girls.  You knew she had to walk on her own, had to make those steps by herself; but, you were there, and you were watching.  You even hid in the bushes on her first day riding the bus to school.  And she still laughs thinking about it.

When she tripped on the way down from the stage at her first large piano recital, her hands shaking, her eyes blurring with tears, you stayed rooted in your seat, knowing she had to learn, had to be strong and hold her head high and stay strong.  Years later, when teen-hood encompassed her changing body, and her fingers blundered through a classical piece of piano music, you were there to comfort her when she burst into tears after closing herself inside of a quiet private bedroom.

You were there at her first party.  She knew it too, for along with the negative encouragement of her friends, she could feel you in the back of her mind, pushing her toward the door.  Her hand, hanging at her side, was cupped, empty, but your hand was in hers.  When she safely arrived at home, disheveled, frustrated, and simply annoyed, you gave her a hug and wished you could explain why the world is the way it is.

When she first dislocated her shoulder, you laughed as her first response was calling the larger soccer player who had ripped your daughter's jersey guarding your tiny girl was "what a bitch!"

You brought her to the ER, you waited through x-rays... you smiled as she began to giggle after her first IV of morphine.  And later, you helped her wash her hair in the kitchen sink to get the blood off her neck.    

Now with school, boys, friends, and work, it seems like you're standing there less and less.  That just isn't true... you help her through her day, when she faces rumors, judgment, and confusion.  Little does she know that not only do you stand beside her, but you walk with her, open new doors, and close old ones.  You're not her best friend, her father, or even her teacher.  You're her angel and her guardian... the keeper of the gate to her heart.