This story was based on a flash fiction writing prompt I was given during my weekly writing group session: Observant father having the day of his life.
I slept like a baby! I woke up today and, honest-to-goodness, felt like a child. The window was open and the rain fell all night long. This morning, the sun is pouring in and the curtains ruffle in a light spring breeze. The grass is getting a little long though. I wonder if I’ll have time to mow today. What if I had ice cream for breakfast? No. No, no. I’m not actually a child. But coffee, yes. And pancakes.
My wife is with her sister. They’ve been planning this trip for months. No sooner do I think about my wife than I hear our daughter beckoning, or rather, wailing from her bedroom. It’s the best sound in the world. She wakes up and cries like she just spotted a kraken from her crib, her ship on the high seas, until my wife or I walk in with our swords drawn and ready for battle. Her face immediately glows with an enormous smile even though her cheeks still glisten with tears. And this morning is no different. She’s scooped into my arms before I even have time to think. Her favorite blanket is draped over my shoulder and her head rests gently in the crook of my neck. My little furnace.
We have breakfast and play. Before I know it, lunchtime is here. I set her up in her highchair and buckle her in before getting our skinned, halved grapes, cheese puffs and yogurt. For just the briefest of moments, the window between the kitchen and dining room turns into a school bus window and I see Abigail waving goodbye on her first day of school. Back in the dining room, I see her excitedly flail her arms at the sight of the cheese puffs. Still my baby.
Watching her fall asleep mid cheese puff is another secret delight. Her little hands still reaching for the last few puffs as her head droops. Her tired fingers working overtime to connect with her tired mouth. I can’t help but watch for another moment before I get the wipes and clean up her face and hands, inadvertently humming her favorite tune. She fusses a little as I get her back into her crib for naptime and I break into a tender but impassioned rendition Harry Chapin’s Cat’s in the Cradle.
I’ll never forget when we discovered her favorite song. It was about two months in and Kim and I were at our wits end. We took Abi for a drive to see if she’d sleep. We tried station after station to no avail. But then, we reached the oldies and our buddy Harry crooned his December 1974 Billboard Hot 100 top hit into a silent car. It was about halfway through the song before we realized what had happened. But that was it. We’d been struggling and managing but I think that was the moment we really, really became parents.
I grab the monitor and wander through the silent house. The sun is high in the sky bringing a sudden heat wave like a summer day. I head for the patio, stopping by the fridge to grab an ice-cold pomegranate seltzer water. Pomegranate seltzer. What have I become? The grass is indeed a little long. But it can wait. This seltzer is delicious.
A coo. A whimper. The rustle of fabric. Time to get my girl.
I head back into the house and hover outside her door. I imagine knocking and an angsty voice replying a drawn out, “I’m up, I’m up!” and me telling her she can’t be late for high school again. Though that would prove what we already assume: She’s just like her father.
I push open her door to see her standing in her crib, patiently waiting for me to pick her up. Another favorite. We play, we skype with Mommy. I wish time would slow down but the sun is getting lower and the afternoon is getting chilly. I wrestle her fall jacket out of the closet and we head outside to play soccer. And by “play soccer”, I mean roll around on the ground and occasionally throw a soccer ball in whatever direction feels right.
Time for dinner. I make my famous black bean soup and cheese quesadilla. Abi helps by being a goofball with the refrigerator magnets. But really, who knew that a one-year-old could have such an awesome sense of humor?
We clean up the dishes and Abi knows it’s time. We read often but this is our every-night-dedicated-reading-time. We rush to get her in pajamas and into her oversized bean bag chair (that I really bought for myself). She makes sure to stop by her bookshelf on the way and picks a handful of books. As she struggles to get her books over to me, I see her carrying all her college textbooks across campus. I grab as many books as I can from the trail she left behind and we read and read. And then we read just one more.
I sing another quiet rendition of Cat’s in the Cradle and her breathing slows. There’s a chill in the air and I’m suddenly glad I put her in her footie pajamas. As soon as she’s sleeping, I head to the thermostat and turn the temperature up a couple degrees. I check my phone expecting to see a winter weather warning.
I walk through the dark, empty house and get the urge to call Kim again. We talk about our days. I tell her my most recent vision is of us as empty nesters, waiting on a phone call from Abi. But it doesn’t make us sad. I’m so thankful. I tell Kim I love her and can’t wait for her to come home.
Time for bed for me too, I think. I’m so very tired. But what a wonderful day. What a wonderful life. I drift off to sleep in peace.
