To My Little One

With the passing of a few impossibly short nights and seasons, she has evolved from lying to rolling to crawling to running, climbing, jumping, leaping.

To her, all is a mystery to be unwrapped and opened, explored and understood, unscrewed and emptied.

Her fresh little body and mind will daily take more bumps and bruises, drops and shocks and recover in scant seconds than you could have healed from in a month. Crisis into comfort into confidence in the drying of her eye.

Your heart swells, fit for breaking, with each passing minor miracle of achievement and discovery. As you look on in awe and admiration and pride, she has passed into the everyday with no ego or arrogance, just wonder and joy – she can, she can, she can,

and then onto the next.

It is your duty, your privilege to hold on to her, to enwrap and swathe and swaddle her, to  give her first external comfort, as your arms, your chest, your life envelopes her.

She has no pretence, just honesty; all your armour is stripped, all shreds of self defence are taken away. You are left hopelessly and helplessly stripped and bared. She takes your hand and forgives you with your asking and you need nothing more and you are lifted and washed and strengthened.

What once sickened you, now enlightens you.

What once was fear is now strength.

What once was weakness is now your patience

What once was your limit is now your foundation.

One day she will no longer rely on you, and on that day your job may be done, but you will never abandon that post. From the day she was only a line on a stick, a bump in a belly, she will always be your first response, your first priority, your first elation, your first solace,

your first,

your first.

Her little fingers are wrapped in your heart and will never fully let go, and you can never not hold her hand, whenever she needs it.

Whenever you need it, I am always yours, Daddy