Tuesday, June 08, 2010

Pot of Gold

From my book Daddy's Little Girl: Stories of the Special Bond between Fathers and Daughters, a great Father's Day gift:

Richard enjoys spending his days of retirement in Florida, sitting in the sun and reflecting on his long life and list of accomplishments. At the top of his list is the knowledge he has raised two wonderful daughters; his little girls have become grown women he can be extremely proud of.

Inevitably, whether when looking at old photographs or daydreaming about memorable events in his life, his thoughts turn to the days of four decades ago, when his little girls looked up at him with dancing eyes and thought he was the source of all things fun and joyful.

One morning as images of Debra, his youngest child, played like a treasured home movie in his imagination, a song suddenly popped into his head. It was a song he had not thought of for many years, and although he could hardly remember the last time he had sung it, every word came to him as if it were just yesterday that he had memorized it. He sat down at his computer and quickly typed an email to his forty-six year old daughter, one that included a few lines from that song:

“You're the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold. You're my little angel, to have and to hold.”

Moments later he received an email; it was from Debra. She was crying at her desk, she told him. She hadn't heard that song in thirty-five years. It had been her favorite bedtime song, one that Richard always sang to her each night while he made sure she was warm and snug beneath her bedcovers.

Even though Debra is a grown woman, hearing her dad say that she is still his little angel touched her heart that morning just as it had each night when she was a young girl. She went on with her day knowing that no matter what challenges they may have faced over the years or how many miles now separated them, her dad still loved her just as much as he always had, if not more. He was still a source of joy.

And Richard, well, he sat back in his chair and shed a few tears of his own, moved by remembrances of his little girl and the knowledge that she still wanted to be his pot of gold.

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