Just got back from a family walk. Partway into the walk we came to a bench with one of the “In Loving Memory” signs. As we looked at the picture and read the plaque the tender moment took a quick detour when Sarah asked…
So…did that guy die under this bench?
Sentimentality squashed. On with the walk.
The scene last Friday night: Sarah and I walk up to her school for her very first all-school dance. The place is packed with kids and parents. A few parents are on the dance floor, but mostly it’s clusters of kids dancing around to the instructions of the guy on the stage with the mic in his hand. At one point he says, “Okay, we need more parents out there. Go grab your mom or dad and get them out here.” Sarah left her group of friends, came over to me with a huge smile, grabbed my hand and said, “Come on dad.”
Out on the dance floor she’s twirling, laughing, dancing much better than I, and we’re in our own little nothing’s-better-than-the-father-daughter-relationship zone. At least I thought we were. Halfway through the song, she stops, looks at me, and says, “Okay dad. You can go back over there and stand by yourself.”
Heavy sigh…
