My Little Girl is Nine
She has been a gift everyday. A continual reminder to me that fate, destiny, and a power from beyond are actively at work in my life. Had my life brought me to others whom I may have mated with and perhaps produced other children, I likely would even have loved such children.
But in no way can I imagine a life without the entrance by Molly.
The person she is and continues to become is so richly unique, how can my reaction to one of her expressions simply be a random function of our species, without some design, some wonderful, inventive design from a source of special goodness, seemingly without reason, but full of purpose?
That “it was meant to be,” is less an applicable statement and more a state of being. I love her from a place of joy, base, basic, up high, as I imagine birds love soaring around the clouds, and I love her profoundly from the depths of my heart, dissipated and pumping across a wide sea. And where these two meet, an endless sunrise.
Time passes cruelly by.
On the eve of the Indiana primaries we supped across the street from Obama’s Terre Haute headquarters. I thought about something we all have heard. “A future for our children.” It has been said for generations, dulling into an excuse, a lofty notion of “down the line” – some vague, but noble reference. Our parents. Us. And now our children. Not a “What future,” could Obama actually supply a “When” future or will the elevated speak fade even for him after the election. That is what I wonder. “The future of our children” is one of the most often used marketing techniques utilized by politicians. Its very vagueness assures the saving of face. Children’s children. Oh. Phone calls. Obama people at the door. I am very encouraged, but await a “when” with hopefully the “win.”
It’ll be tough here because of our popular senator’s support of Hilary.
Because of the way parents feel about their children, it becomes an area of exploitation. Work ‘em then. Get the vote. The future for our children really, is that. The future of children when they are of voting age – future voters to ensure and to continue to support particular political parties and families. Secure the vote. Not the future of children AS children. That is tomorrow. Unless there is a cyclone, a viral outbreak, or a car bomb.
So Molly is asleep now. Dreaming. I kissed her goodnight. She knows the name Obama, but not what it means for tomorrow. I deeply wish her happiness on Tuesday.
She has been a gift everyday. A continual reminder to me that fate, destiny, and a power from beyond are actively at work in my life. Had my life brought me to others whom I may have mated with and perhaps produced other children, I likely would even have loved such children.
But in no way can I imagine a life without the entrance by Molly.
The person she is and continues to become is so richly unique, how can my reaction to one of her expressions simply be a random function of our species, without some design, some wonderful, inventive design from a source of special goodness, seemingly without reason, but full of purpose?
That “it was meant to be,” is less an applicable statement and more a state of being. I love her from a place of joy, base, basic, up high, as I imagine birds love soaring around the clouds, and I love her profoundly from the depths of my heart, dissipated and pumping across a wide sea. And where these two meet, an endless sunrise.
Time passes cruelly by.
On the eve of the Indiana primaries we supped across the street from Obama’s Terre Haute headquarters. I thought about something we all have heard. “A future for our children.” It has been said for generations, dulling into an excuse, a lofty notion of “down the line” – some vague, but noble reference. Our parents. Us. And now our children. Not a “What future,” could Obama actually supply a “When” future or will the elevated speak fade even for him after the election. That is what I wonder. “The future of our children” is one of the most often used marketing techniques utilized by politicians. Its very vagueness assures the saving of face. Children’s children. Oh. Phone calls. Obama people at the door. I am very encouraged, but await a “when” with hopefully the “win.”
It’ll be tough here because of our popular senator’s support of Hilary.
Because of the way parents feel about their children, it becomes an area of exploitation. Work ‘em then. Get the vote. The future for our children really, is that. The future of children when they are of voting age – future voters to ensure and to continue to support particular political parties and families. Secure the vote. Not the future of children AS children. That is tomorrow. Unless there is a cyclone, a viral outbreak, or a car bomb.
So Molly is asleep now. Dreaming. I kissed her goodnight. She knows the name Obama, but not what it means for tomorrow. I deeply wish her happiness on Tuesday.
4 comments:
This the greatest post you have ever made. Congrats to you for having a wonderful child, and happy birthday to Molly!
Fantastic.
Great for Molly and great for you.
As for the future...we can only make decisions that strive to make it better, for everyone.
Couple of things at work there. First, on your ruminations over "mean to be" with respect to a child: I hear you brother. Hugs from tiny arms, sneaking late peeks at their sleeping faces. Continue to cherish it, and congrats on an amazing relationship with an amazing girl.
On the second part: Lucy loves Barack Obama cause she likes his name, I think.
Great post.
Happy belated birthday Molly!
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