Papa

It was a Tuesday morning. The sterility of the hospital room contradicted the cold mist and dirt of the november morning. The mother was asleep, exhausted from a long labor and difficult pregnancy. A man knelt at the foot of the bed, praying for his wife, crying tears of joy at his acceptance of the new challenge of being both father and husband.
He stands, picks up his newborn baby daughter, and relaxes his arms as she settles into the warm embrace of her daddy. She stirs. Slowly eyes open that cannot yet recognize the world. He knows to her tiny mind he is just a mass of light and dark, but he bends his scraggly bearded head next to hers and whispers:
"Hi baby. I'm your daddy, your papa. I love you with all that I am and will give you all I have. I'll teach you to run, teach you to build things, teach you what to look for in a good guy."
He pulls his head away and looks at her deep brown eyes.
"I forgive you, my love. I forgive you for all the heartache you will cause. I forgive you for saying you hate me when you're 16 and I won't give you the car. I forgive you for all the wrong things you will ever do. I forgive you for breaking my heart when you'll finally choose another man to devote your life to. And I forgive you for ever doubting that you have the power to change the world."
Baby reached a tiny hand toward the deep bass of his voice. He settled a finger close to her and she grasped it and squeezed. A handshake of infinite love and support marks the opening act of the greatest journey he will ever take. He smiles. So does she. And then she drifts back to sleep, comforted and safe. In the arms of daddy.


-- Note to self: who is god to you? Why can't god be more human than you are? Open my eyes, that might see.