Number 122

 Daughters

I was carefully strolling around FB last night - doing my best to ignore any post remotely political or partisan - and came to discover that yesterday, or possibly the day before, was something called "National Daughter's Day." It sounded utterly contrived, but it didn't cost anything, so I decided, as the parent of two daughters, to join in the fun. There was a problem, however, as I soon discovered. How do I express the true depth of emotion and love I feel for my daughters in a few quick words? I did alright, I guess. It's just that there will never be words good enough to get to the heart of how much I love the two of them - brats though they be.

In any event, I continued to ponder the subject of 'daughters,' when the thought occurred to me that I have way more than two daughters. What I mean to say is that along the way, for the past twenty years or so, I've been 'adopting' many of my daughters' friends, and other young women I've come into contact with who inspire a "parental" tug in my heart. It's really not all that hard to do, and I imagine all the parents out there kinda know what I mean. If your child spends any meaningful time with a friend or two, you will inevitably come to have strong feelings of affection for those other children. It's a little extra jam on the biscuit of parenthood.

When Rebecca and I moved to Minnesota from Maine back in 2010, one of our biggest concerns was Abby. She had been Emma's best friend since the first grade, and they were almost inseparable. They didn't quite have their own secret language, but they did have a way of communicating with one another composed of giggles, tickles, and (non-violent) punches. We were backyard neighbors with Abby's family, and chances were, if Emma wasn't at our house, she was at Abby's (and vice versa). Sleep overs were so common, I barely registered Abby's presence when I stumbled out of bed on a weekend morning. It was easy to think of her as our third daughter (and I know that Abby's parents felt the same about Emma). Not only did it break my heart when our move separated Emma and Abby, I realized I was genuinely going to miss seeing Abby myself.

Abby was the first. She would not be the last.

There was one (who shall be nameless), that when I introduced myself, replied: "Yes, we've met before." Before I could stop myself, I asked: "Did I like you?" "I think so," she replied somewhat hesitantly. But that became our calling card. Anytime I saw her, I informed her that I still liked her. (You really need to know my sense of humor to know this was done in a gentle teasing manner - kinda like a parent would do.)

There was another, on the other end of our move to Minnesota, who unhesitatingly reached out to Emma with friendship at the exact moment Emma felt adrift and alone. When I explain that this all happened when Emma was between seventh and eighth grade does it make more sense as to how special it was?

One of my 'adopted' daughters entered my orbit when she and Grace got into a physical altercation. At church! I can't remember how long after that occasion that Grace announced that she and this friend were getting together to do something. "Really?" I said. "Yeah, We're cool now." She replied. And so they have continued to be.

Another was my (much younger), chaperone on a church mission trip. She had (and continues to have), a wisdom far beyond her age. She's a new mom, now. That's one kid I know I don't have to worry about.

Another was my personal trainer for a time. I liked her immediately when she accepted my profane cursing with a knowing smile. I texted her after our first session and accused her of being a voodoo priestess. "You broke my ass," was my concluding remark. She replied with an "LOL" and an emoji that had the same sadistic smile she had on her face every time she told me what the next set would be.

Many of them put smiles on my daughters' faces and laughter in their hearts. Others were there to pick them up when things got bad. On the day Grace's mother died, she had a friend show up to be with her. The thing of it was, her own father had died in the same hospital, under similar circumstances, less than one year previously. How can you not love someone who does that for your child?

One works with bugs. One salvaged Grace's first year of college after Grace experienced a horrible roommate situation during her first semester of college. Another delights in the most scatological t-shirts ever imagined. One had a crazy illness out of left field, and almost left us way too soon. One was Miss Mankato for a year. And I delight in every single one of them.

I will (always) stand guard, like the postcard of a Golden Retriever.