Getting Paid For All Your Hard Work – Her Sweaty Damp Curls in the Palm of My Hand

Here's a little piece I wrote for my daughter a few years ago. It's her 10th birthday today, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Let me know what you think:

I love putting my daughter to bed. It's one of the few times I get to disconnect and simply enjoy being right there in the moment.

We usually spend a lot of time talking about what went on during her day … we make a bunch of jokes and get each other laughing … and then I cuddle her and she falls asleep cuddling her little doll, which she's had almost all here life.

Last night, I thought she was sleep and when I started getting out of her bed, she said softly … with her eyes closed, "Do not go daddy. Hold my hand."

As long as I live, I will never forget this. It was as pure as life could be.

So I laid back down with her and I let her curl her little fingers around my thumb, while I gently cupped the rest of my hand around the back of hers.

You know, there are certain distinct facial features that babies, infants, and young children have, that get lost as they get older.

For example, her lips.

The thin line between your lips and the skin immediately around your lips, is very defined when you're young. But this line loses its sharpness as you grow up. It's as if fine sandwich somehow slightly smoothes the edges down, as you go from being an infant to a young child.

And her eyelashes.

You can see each individual long dark eyelash as if it was a slim rod growing up out of her eyelids, slightly thinner than narrow pencil lead you slide into an automatic pencil, but now near as stiff.

And as she's falling asleep, I'm lucky enough to rub my course fingers back through her silky fine damp curls, and over her perfectly smooth round head. I can feel each of her hair brush over my clumsy calloused hands, which, for some reason … do not seem to be so clumsy at this moment.

As I'm looking down at her face and at her tiny little body, I'm hoping – hoping with all the might I can muster up – that somehow I will never ever lose this feeling, or these memories. That I can somehow permanently etch this image into my mind like an artist burns the edge of a soldering iron into a wooden block, creating permanent etchings of a design.

It would be great if I could recall images like this one, that are buried away inside my memory banks, "automatically," the same way your elbow "automatically" twitches when you bang the spot right behind it. This would be the perfect pick-me-up whenever your get down or frustrated about something – whenever life's momentarily punched you in the stomach.

Although as I'm here in this moment with her, it seems hard to think that life could be anything but perfect. Her little spirit is so bright and so warm, nothing could possibly diminish it.

She is only the second woman in my life I've ever gotten close to – her mom (my wife) being the first. And both of them have a very soothing effect on me.

As I'm sitting here, I am reminded again of what's important. The truth is, sitting in front of your computer yields virtual ZERO "memorable" experiences. And it's the memories in life you carry around that make you or break you. That fill you up or leave you feeling empty.

On second thought, I do not think I'll have too much trouble recalling something this powerful.

At least … not for a good long while, anyway.

Now go make some memories, Craig Garber

Source by Craig Garber

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