Dad's tips for adding life to a daughter's years
When I first met you, you were six weeks old.
You were staying at a group home for endangered infants.
You had been left at the front door of a police officer’s home on the day you were born.
It was below freezing that January night and you survived.
Mommy and I bathed you and fed you for the first time.
I held you and felt so happy that I nearly cried.
You came to live with us when you were eight weeks old.
We had the nursery ready for your arrival.
When we told friends and family about you, we didn’t need to buy anything.
Everyone welcomed you into our world with clothes, diapers, food, blankets, toys and love.
The following November, we adopted you.
I didn’t need a judge or piece of paper to tell me that you were my daughter.
I knew that first night when I held you.
At church, you were an over-whelming success.
Everyone wanted to see you, to talk to you, to love you.
When I was asked to speak in front of the congregation about my blessings, I accepted.
I told them about mommy, about our first meeting, about your adoption, about the happiest times and the sleepless nights.
I told them that something wonderful had changed in me.
I wept as I talked about your life with us.
I celebrate the time that I get to spend with you.
You will be two in January and I’m very proud to be your da-da.
I hope we have many nights of reading stories, singing lullabys, sharing eskimo kisses and grabbing my lips, ears and nose.
I love you, peanut.
As I grew up, I dreamt about the kind of man I would marry. He didn’t have a face. I didn’t know his name. And I didn’t know where he was from. But I knew the kind of man he would be. He would be strong, patient, compassionate, gentle, and wise. Just like my Daddy. He would make me laugh, tell the truth, teach me new things, and admit when he was wrong. Just like my Daddy. He would be slow to anger, quick to laughter, hard working, and love the Lord above all else. Just like my Daddy. And when the day came, he would be an incredible father, just like my Daddy.
Thank you for loving my Mom fiercely and, in turn, showing me the kind of love I am worthy of. Thank you for the countless hours playing catch and, in turn, making me a better ball player than most of the boys. Thank you for our Saturday morning chats about everything under the sun and, in turn, teaching me to communicate well and be fearless in sharing how I feel. Thank you for loving me despite all of my faults and, in turn, showing me that I never need to earn your love because you give it unconditionally.
You taught me that kind people are brave people.
You taught me to listen twice as much as I speak.
You taught me that it’s ok to dance to ABBA and to listen to Simon & Garfunkel on repeat.
You taught me that I should be proud of who I am and what I love and my creativity.
You taught me to be a leader and that imitation is the biggest form of flattery.
What it comes down to is this — I knew you would be there when I went to bed each night, I never doubted your love, you understood my weird-bohemian-wanderlustic heart. And that has made all the difference.
Love you to the contrails and back,
This one’s from Taylor to her dad J.T., who says it (along with one like it from his other daughter, Annabelle) is one of his two most treasured possessions:
Theme by Lauren Ashpole