Hands at her sides, she moves close to me. The movement feels familiar, the request a silent one. Pick me up, Papa, she says without saying it. Although she is nine now and a big girl, she still issues the request from time to time. The request to scoop her up off the floor and whisk her upstairs to bed.
Bending down, I oblige, kissing the top of her head as I do so. My first baby, I think. Such a big girl now, but still little.
Daughter securely in my arms now, we pivot toward the stairs. “Wait, Papa, my book!” Using a left hand, she points to the thick Harry Potter book on the coffee table. So I bend my knees, allowing her to gather her beloved text. So silly of me, I think, never would she want to go to bed without reading. Now with an armload of precious cargo, we head up the stairs.
As a parent, many times…many times, I feel I’ve failed on multiple fronts. Should have done that better. Shouldn’t have done that. Need to get to this. Haven’t taught that yet. Did that wrong. Parents reading this likely know what I mean.
But tonight, I feel success.