She was beautiful.
Once again I found myself staring out this window and wondering: How can I even think to let her out of her own? I once could hold her in my hands and could tap her feet till she giggled in my arms. Now, I can’t hold on with even one hand; she’s gotten too old for that.
She used to ask me about the birds and how the plants lived; how life was so pretty, but now she tells me about her friends and where she is going in her life.
It’s strange to think back on her as a child, all innocent and adorable. Now she has a fiancée and a brand new life she is starting without me.
It makes me proud, I did my job, my child is grown up, living in today, reflecting on the past, and dreaming for the future.
I’m sure her mother fells the same about our darling.
Gone are the days of homework helper, gone are the days of messy finger paintings, and so long to the days when I held her hand when she needed me after a bad dream.
Now I can only watch her mature through her voice and actions.
I’ll still be her father, I’ll still want to know what she is doing and offer her advice but I have no control anymore.
She can take care of herself now.-~-
I think this is interesting. But there are a few organizational errors and a few punctuation errors. I think you could have included more description of the characters, like how the girl looked like as a baby, and how her appearance changed in her father's eyes when she got older. For example, the first line is "She was beautiful." What is it that makes here beautiful? Otherwise, good effort.
ReplyDeleteHi there.
ReplyDeleteI just found your blog on Gaia and I really like it so far. I thought this piece was really effective, though it might benefit from a bit more organization and a little more direction. It left me thinking - just how has she changed?
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Thanks,
Peter