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Published: February 12th 2011
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Our children are ours for just a season.
And it is a fleeting one at that.
Once upon a little girl time, this writer was a mighty hero who could perform magic for his daughter.
Like the time I carried her--my six-year-old princess--in my arms and took her outside to enjoy the shade of the giant evergreens that stood ever vigilant on the north side of our home.
The crisp melody of the slow moving creek found an accompanying harmony line from a gallery of sparrows and finches hopping from branch to branch overhead.
Nearby, a butterfly tentatively circled a very pregnant plum tree.
Those were the good old days, that special time when I could still carry my daughter and bond with her.
A small capsule of existence before a little girl morphs into a teenager--complete with temperamental sophistication and runaway hormones.
A time before the phenomenon of peer acceptance transforms her once wonderful awe of Daddy and Mommy into disgust for all things authoritative.
And I was completely unaware, foolish young father that I was, spiritually and emotionally imbibed with the notion that this moment would last forever, that life is all about the inevitable transition from one season to another.
But there we were, father and daughter, standing at the base of the ancient evergreen and looking up admiringly and curiously at the quilted pattern of the needles and branches.
And there he was...almost invisible because he looked like just another knot in the large pine branch.
A little wood owl. Except for the slightest movement of his swiveling head, we would not have spotted him.
That was the magic. That Daddy could bring Amber Leilani outside at just the precise time and capture this rare sighting. Oh, what this father couldn't do!
My daughter and I mutually agreed that we needed to give this mystical wood owl a name.
I suggested KEOKI, a Hawaiian name that is the equivalent of GEORGE in English.
Although Keoki barely moved in the fifteen minutes that I stood holding my little girl. Amber and I were nevertheless fascinated with this newest visitor to the creekside evergreen. It was definitely way better than watching the Discovery Channel.
This was real life stuff, and although I may have imagined it, I couldn't help but believe that Amber was that much more in love with a daddy who could produce such a timely display of natural wonder.
Sadly, we never again saw Keoki perched high atop this evergreen tree.
Amber and I tried looking for him a few times after that initial sighting but to no avail. The little wood owl had moved on. Keoki's short season had passed.
I don't know how it happened or why it happened. I also don't know if it is a universal occurrence that a good majority of fathers experience. All I know is that the little girl in awe of her daddy season was an altogether short season as well.
Amber grew up, seemingly overnight, and without the courtesy and formality of other rites of passages, her season to enjoy and appreciate the magic of Daddy came to a thoroughly unheralded and unwanted demise.
These days, whenever I see young parents with their babies, toddlers, or little children, I find myself almost compulsively declaring to them, "Cherish this time because they grow up so fast!"
The parents almost invariably respond with a polite smile that suggests they're more irritated with rather than appreciative of this stranger's two cents' worth of advice.
They don't know, you see, that I'm really talking aloud to myself as the thoughts of second-guessing waft over me like the heat waves of a Walla Walla summer.
Did I spend enough time with my daughter? Did I put my work and other selfish pursuits down whenever she needed my attention and quality time? Could I have done more for her?
On the other end of the spectrum, sage and elderly friends tell me, "Don't worry. When children are in their twenties, they begin to realize just how much they appreciate their parents."
Was that my experience? Yes, I do believe it was. And that in itself would be the subject of a future post.
For now, I lament the passing of KEOKI experiences I've had with my daughter.
Still, hope reigns eternal that the seniors are wise and right.
If and when Amber Leilani returns one day to my wife and me--sometime after her sojourn in Spain and graduation from the university and falling in love and getting married and having children of her own...I will have one thing and one thing alone to say to her.
"Honey, come outside with me. Let's go see if Keoki is back."
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