When I am in my “me” time, my 15 minutes of bliss where I get to have a time to do nothing and just be, I usually have a cup of coffee because coffee is my “me time buddy” and I start to muse on things that soothes my mind. Remembering a good movie perhaps or reading an inspiring article or simply thinking happy thoughts. In one of this happy thought moments I recalled the words I spoke during my daughter’s 18th birthday for it indeed allowed me to look back at those years we spent time together just the two of us alone in the house. I recently read a blog about a father and daughter, it made me realize how the things you do together can become an experience that can bind you together later on. So I wish to share these words which I dedicated to my daughter on her birthday.
It was eighteen years ago on a Holy Wednesday in the middle of the Holy Week that a disturbance interrupted the mood of that Lenten Season, Lent of course is a time of temperance and even emotions should be kept at bay, now added to this gloomy atmosphere was an ominous old wives’ tale that goes, “Wednesday’s child is full of woe”, but something affected the quality of that day, for on that Wednesday, a little girl made her way into our lives so that all of a sudden Easter was upon us!
I looked at her now a beautiful lady and I am reminded of all the experiences we shared with her. They are like rings on my kitchen table, you know when you put a glass of water on a wooden table, it leaves a mark that looks like a ring, and if you leave the glasses just lying everywhere on the table you end up with interlocking patterns of rings on your table. There was a time when Andrea had not started school yet and I stayed at home to be with her so that we were alone together for long stretches of time in the house and in that time these rings adorned our kitchen table, looking at it I am reminded that these rings were made from all the meals we shared together. The melon juice when we were working on her art activity, the cold chocolate milk to help her finish the vegetables on her plate, the coca cola drink that was a medicine to soothe her tears when she fell and bruised her knees. This table bore the scars of our loving, messy and happy times together. They were like rings on a tree where you could date its age and you could learn about its life.
From my kitchen table, I am brought back to the rings of growth that was added year after year that she has grown with us to the lady she has become tonight. These rings are not only in my kitchen table but also in my heart, and I love the scars of rings she has left on my heart for all these years, they are there to stay and I have made room in my heart for a thousand, thousand more rings and a thousand, thousand more years with her.