Friday, March 20, 2015

NO PEEKING ALLOWED...

So I picked up Shiloh from school as I often do. It is a Friday and the weary look of Shiloh's teacher greets me at the classroom door. I normally pick her up from outside, lined up her classes red dots. I need to turn in a field trip slip and $22 for the excursion to the theatre to see a play next week.
Shiloh and I hold hands as we walk the short distance to my car, illegally parked in the adjacent alley. I cherish that brief interlude together with Shiloh. She is at that age when she is still a little girl, but I can clearly see adolescence traits developing. Her hair is in the dual ponytail look, parted down the middle. She wears a free dress day outfit of Wonder Woman tee shirt, jeans, and mini boots. When she bends to get in the car her underwear is exposed and I tease her about how this must've looked when she was around the boys in her class. I don't like the idea of the sagging pants, not cute at all. I always insist she wear a belt to keep them up. Because of my crack of dawn work schedule I don't get the chance to make sure on these free dress days to see what she looks like.

We get to 7-11 and she puts in her request for a donut and strawberry milk. I know, not the healthy of treats. I could use some supervision in that area, just as I can be critical of her attire. When we are preparing to leave the store parking lot a wave of sadness rushes over me like some melancholy blanket. I think to myself, in twenty years she will be twenty five years old. And I will be almost eighty. Will she still want to hold my hand and share with me stories about her day. Today it was  Morgan who pulled her shirt up and Reagan who gave her a barrette. Who and what will be happening in her life in twenty years, and will I be around to take it all in. And if I am around, will I have enough sense left to understand and appreciate the ability to experience my child's life? Will she want to take trips to the store with me and get a donut and strawberry milk? She will more than likely have to drive  me, and perform other odds and end errands that I take for granted now. I mentioned to her today when she was adding up how old she will be in twenty years that I wanted her to come by and spend time with me. Not in a guilt inducing fashion, I'll wait for her to get a little older for that. She promised she would. Well, maybe not actually a promise, but she sounded like she meant what she said. I wonder how the dad's I know who are in their seventies and eighties are doing with their relationships with their daughters. The simplicity of the good times we share now will hopefully become an investment in her desires in the future to hang out with the old man. I shudder to think of the loneliness and despair I would feel if she didn't...