…the bond between baby girls and their fathers.
I visited a few families over the weekend and of all the couples that had kids, all the kids were girls. And what I saw each of the father and daughter pair share was something so different, so special.
The comfort that the little one felt by securing her tiny hands around her father’s neck. The pride with which the father talked about the little one’s antics. The love that came pouring through as the little one walked/ran towards her father with her wobbly feet to give him a bear hug. The way the father admired even the smallest thing the little one did. All that was just such a delight to watch.
For a minute there, I wondered if I had a similar thing going on with my father when I was young. But of course, I did. As a matter of fact, I think we still share the same oh-that-is-so-beautiful kind of father-daughter bond. That would explain why he still sees me as a baby, why he treats me like I need him holding my hands through every step I take, why he worries constantly about me getting hurt, why he spends sleepless nights at times when I don’t listen to him…I can see where he’s coming from.
We have our fair share of disagreements, but I know that I can’t function well without the assurance that he is right there to catch me every time I fall. We have our unending arguments every so often, but I know that I can’t go long without hearing his voice regularly…be it just a hi-hello talk, or his recent favorite you-are-getting-too-old-you-need-to-get-married-soon lectures. Even though we don’t see eye to eye on a few subjects, he is the one I look up to; he is my pillar of support.
And for that, I am thankful.
To know that he talks proudly about me to others; to hear him say that the sound of my laughter brightened his otherwise dull day; to see him grin wide every time I hug him and kiss him; to take all that love he showers on me; to be his daughter – makes me one happy soul.