Monday, June 8, 2009
A Flower Child
As I look at the little flower, I can’t take my eyes off it. Its stunning beauty, overwhelms my senses. My eyes indulge, in its every detail. It fills me with joy and happiness.
As it gently sways in the wind, I find a peace within me. The love that flows through my veins, is awesome. I am in a different dimension, totally removed from this world.
I stare at her deeply, not able to take my eyes off her. A face that angels envy.
She realizes that I’m looking at her, and tells me to stop. But the pain of looking away, is too great, so I continue to indulge.
With every move that she makes, I feel a surge of emotion. She is so cute. I make her laugh, just to hear her giggle, and it fills me with a deep happiness.
I walk her to school every day, even though she could go by herself, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s so much fun. I walk extra slow, savoring every moment.
I call her Booga, and she asks me what it means. I tell her, that it means a little girl, about six years old, with brown hair.... Realizing, that I’m talking about her, she interrupts me, and tells me to stop.
I hold her hand the whole way, even though she gets embarrassed when her friends see her. She tries to wriggle away, but I wouldn’t let go for a million dollars! I hold tight, until she realizes that its useless.
I know that it won’t last forever, for one day she will grow up and leave, and I will be left with memories. Thankful, that I merited such a luscious gift; but sad, that it will no longer be totally mine. I push the thoughts out of mind, and focus on the now, and make the most of it.
Once she went overseas, on a trip with her mother. As she was boarding the plane I realized, that I would be missing a month of her life. I would not see her change, and I would not share in those few weeks of growth. I became sad, but realized, that she would return, and I would just have to make due in the mean time.
I call home from work, and ask to speak to her. Flattered to get a phone call like an adult, she runs to the phone.
She tells me about her day, happy that it matters to me. I listen intently, relishing each word. When she finishes, she asks me when I am coming home. I tell her later, and she answers “no, now.”
I say good-by. She responds, good-bye. I again say good-bye. And she again answers, good-bye. I again say good-bye. And she laughs good-bye, at my silly game. Finally, I reluctantly hang up the phone.
When I come home from work, the first thing I do, is run over to her. She knows what to expect, and runs away. But eventually I grab her, and give her the biggest hug you can imagine.
She laughs uncontrollably, and turns her face, so that I can’t give her the thousands of kisses, that I always give her. But she knows that it is useless, as I finally peck at her cheek, until she gleefully squirms away.
I walk over to the tape-player, and turn it on high volume. With the music pulsing through the air, I am enlivened. I run over to her, and we start to dance. I turn her, and twirl her, until she is dizzy. Then I lift her up on my shoulders, and run with her to the end of the living-room; turn around, and run to the other end; with her giggling the whole way. What fun!
At night, I tell her a bedtime story, about a little girl who lives in a big house, and she is a very good girl, and she does a lot of Mitzvahs. Entranced she asks me the girl’s name. Not wanting her to know it’s about her, I tell her I don’t know, and continue the story, as she listens in deep concentration. She loves it.
As I get up to leave the room, so that she can sleep, she quietly says, “Good night Tatie”. I turn to look at her one more time and answer, “Good night, Booga!” She laughs, and I float on a cloud reaching the height of joy.
Hugging her, dancing with her, telling her funny things, buying her things, sharing life together, my daughter, my Queen.
A flower, like a thousand others, needing the right nutrients of a Chassidic life, in order to blossom.