Some days on a calendar are just programmed never to be forgotten, like Christmas. (Unless of course you have the Koran on your bed stand) Then there’s Valentine’s day and all the other commercially driven days invented by Hallmark, sponsored by Wallmart.
And then there are days that’s unique to every individual. Days we write down in our hearts and encircle with prostitute red pens on the calendar so we won’t forget. (Wedding anniversaries) Then there’s the birthdays of every family member and friend. Which makes me wonder if being a recluse doesn’t have it advantages.
It’s one of those days, today. A celebration of the birth of our princess, our wondrously created, enthusiastically crafted and immeasurable blessing, our daughter given to us 11 years ago. As a father’s gift, please find these few words, spilling from my heart.
I love your blue eyes and your long blond hair,
how you laugh from your belly without any care.
I love how you sing loudly whilst you play
and hope you retain your excitement one day.
I love how you plan and organise to the T,
celebrate any event, irrespective how small it might be.
I love how you always pray for those without food
and how you wake up in your foul little mood.
I love that you drive me insane with requests
and don’t worry, I love those new, bright pink specs.
I love how jump in my arms, running from far,
or refuse to sleep with the closet doors ajar.
I love that you appear confident, witty and strong,
knowing you’re fragile and delicate, they have it wrong.
I know that’s the reason you cannot sleep at a friend
but don’t worry my little one, it will change in the end.
I love that you’re mine and my heart’s filled with pride,
that your spunk and your zeal is impossible to hide.
I love how I’m able to see Mommy in you,
her beauty, laughter and love shining through.
You are my treasure and you make my life great,
but you’re growing up and that’s the one thing I hate.