(This was written back in November of 2001, about 7 months after my daughter was born.)
Becoming the father of my daughter was a pretty big moment in my life. Ok, that’s an understatement. It was the big moment in my life, and the great thing about it is that it continues to be the big moment in my life. Becoming a parent gives you a wonderful perspective change regarding your life and the lives around you. I supposed it’s not so much a change as an expansion. It’s the one thing that I didn’t expect before my daughter Megan was born.
I watch her grow up and it’s both too fast and too slow at the same time. Too slow because I want to be able to talk to her and run around the yard and take her hiking in the park, but she’s only 7 months old. Too fast because she’s so much bigger than she was 5 months ago and she’s no longer content to just angelically lie in my arms and watch the ceiling fan spin. She wants to explore, crawl, climb, chew, and catch the cats. It’s a Catch-22 situation, as most parents know.
I picture her as she gets older… eyes wide as she comes downstairs on a Christmas morning, playing with the garden hose on a summer day, getting her first bike, dressing up for Halloween, first day of school, birthday parties, sports, family vacations, boyfriends (!!!), proms, college, getting married… ok, hold on. That’s the one that really gets me. Getting married. Giving my little girl away. Walking her down the aisle in her spectacular white dress and handing her over to some guy standing there in a tuxedo with a dazed look of adoration on his face. She’s just a baby, for heaven’s sake! She’s only 7 months old!
This thought hit home a few weeks ago when I saw the movie “Father of the Bride” with Steve Martin and Diane Keaton. As his daughter is getting married, the scene shows him remembering all the things his daughter did as she was growing up… coming downstairs wide-eyed on a Christmas morning, running in the yard, playing basketball, showing off her new prom gown… all the things that I, as a new father, picture Megan doing from the other end of the timeline. I was watching the screen, seeing Megan’s future past, pass before Steve Martin’s eyes.
I’d seen that movie at least once before, but I never saw it through a father’s eyes. I never felt the knot that formed in my stomach as I thought about “giving away” my daughter… never felt the panic of not being able to say goodbye before she left on her honeymoon… never felt the sad joy of receiving a phone call a few hours later so she could tell me she loves me. I never needed to wipe my eyes, either.
I don’t know if it will actually happen that way. I don’t know if any of the things I picture Megan doing as she grows up will occur as I imagine them. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I get to be there to watch my little girl grow up. I get to see the wide Christmas eyes, hear the giggling, taste the dry, crumbling Easy-bake oven cookies, smell the wildflowers she picked in the park, and feel the love that won’t go away.
…even after she walks down the aisle in her white dress.