Time had taken a toll... but it had not taken so much of a toll that it was completely lost forever... instead, it just needed some care... the kind of care only a daddy can know how to give to something made (with some help)... by his daughter.
It is so simple, yet so precious.
On a green piece of construction paper, Kyla had placed her two little footprints on there... captured for all time to remind me of the innocence that my second fathers day could bring. So simple. So small... yet so powerful to me. What was intended for me to receive on Fathers' Day... became the best Christmas gift any daddy could ever want.
Tonight, I put Kyla down and watched... I watched as, with care, she put her three little babies down to sleep. With a care that trancends her 23 months of life, she placed them along side her, and kissed them each... then, she whispered "love you"... and stood up to me...
... and I repeated what she had shown me. A small kiss. A whispered phrase. Another moment in what will be countless as we go through our lifetime.
When she was in her bed, she put one of her feet up to show me...
"Foot" she said.
My mind wandered to her footprints... to that piece of construction paper I found in a Connecticut mall parking lot... in the trunk of a car which would carry her as we went our seperate ways for a while. It was a piece of her that I could physically carry with me to remind me of the wonder of a simpler time in life. So small... so innocent.
"Yes, your foot, Kyla" I said, as she put her little leg down and pulled up the blanket. "You have two of them, and they'll carry you to whereever you want to go in this life. Daddy loves you, Kyla..."
"Love you" she said. "See you ummorrow" she said as I walked to her door. I turned and blew her a kiss... she blew one back and then she rolled over... just like I do as I succumb to my slumber.
Moments that you can only understand when you're a parent... moments which mean even more when you are called 'daddy'...
Good night, Kyla. Thank you for making me a better man. See you tomorrow.