I'm So Lucky to Be the Father of Daughters
Reflections on the beautiful things that give us strength when we need it most
Hello Friends,
A few of you have told me that the posts you like best are when I tell you things about my family. I think I need to heed that request as much for my own mental health as anything else.
In these anxiety inducing times, it's critical that we pause and reflect on the things that give us the strength to carry on. My daughters certainly have changed the way I view the world.
Years ago I was sitting in a cafe after having dropped off my wife at work. It was one of those inexpensive breakfast places where you could get two eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee for a couple of bucks.
I used to make it a thing to go and sit with my girls, though they were probably too young to remember. The waitress was a kind, older woman who got to know us. My girls always seemed to enchant everyone everywhere they went. The waitress would bring coloring books over. This was back when they had to gather up the crayons in a pudgy fist. They always knew just what to do, and commenced to coloring as if the rest of the world didn't exist.
One time I was sitting there, soaking it all in, when a man stopped at my table.
“I raised two girls too,” he said. His eyes glittered and I could tell he was lost in memory. “You're a lucky man. There are many beautiful things before you.”
Sometimes I wonder if he might have been a time traveler.
Sometimes I wonder if he might have been the future version of me.
I didn't know what to expect when we first went into the doctor's office and found out that we were pregnant. My only wish was that our child would be healthy. My wife was diligent about eating well and taking her vitamins. She often looks at our girls with deserved pride as she remembers the extreme lengths she went to in order to ensure they'd have the best chance in life.
Those efforts didn't stop when they were born.
As a young father, I didn't know what having daughters would mean. What would be the difference?
The reality is not what you'd expect.
A few days ago, my youngest asked me to teach her how to throw a football. So, we went into the front yard and tossed the ball to each other for about a half hour. I showed her how to place her hand so that the pinky was on the laces, and the index finger pointed towards the end of the ball. I think I watched a video where Terry Bradshaw said that's how he liked to throw.
Soon, she was drilling me with the ball pretty good. I've taught them soccer, swimming, cross-country skiing, baseball, basketball, and now football.
I've also taught them art.
The three of us would sit with our crayons when the waitress brought the coloring book over. Then we moved on to pastels, watercolors, markers, and acrylics. Their rooms are overflowing with artwork. I use their creations in my posts.
Even when my girls were very young, they made efforts to comfort me. Whenever anyone said a harsh word, I'd go quiet and pretend to sniffle. Without fail, my daughters would notice this and place a comforting hand on my arm.
How do they know?
It's a marvelous thing to watch them diagnose that you are feeling sad. They see it and they react as best they can. They reach out as if to say let's be sad together. Everything's going to be okay.
Such beauty.
My two daughters have grown into powerful young girls. They're happy. They dance. They like to cook. They create art. They read.
I write stories for them. We've got binders filled with completed manuscripts. We've created an encyclopedia of characters. On a recent family drive, they reflected on all these imaginary adventures we've had together.
They remembered them. Experiencing a story together makes a fantasy into reality. We all carry the same memory. How is that memory different than any other experience?
The memories we share are those of the tooth fairy inviting the family dog to go on an adventure.
Yesterday, as I was preparing the grill, the voice on the radio said that men who have daughters live longer than men who have sons. The more daughters they have, the longer they live.
That information would have been a surprise to me fourteen years ago, but now I just nodded my head.
I think the privilege of having daughters gives you the opportunity to make yourself into a special kind of man. Girls have a special kind of love and magic and tender happiness. All that I am today, I owe to them.
The years have gone by in the blink of an eye. Our entire existence is nothing more than a candle flickering in the wind. Every precious second with your children is an opportunity to hold them close and to share in their astonishment and appreciation of all that is.
Gather up the crayons and create something beautiful.
Absolute focus.
Nothing else exists.
When you're done, turn to the person who sits beside you and say, “That's very good daddy. Do you like mine?”
“Yes, it's going on the fridge.”
“I'd rather Be Writing” exists because of your generous support. If you have the means please consider upgrading to a paid sponsorship. I have payment tiers starting at as little as twenty dollars a year. I'm so happy you're here, and I'm looking forward to sharing more thoughts with you tomorrow.
My CoSchedule referral link
Here’s my referral link to my preferred headline analyzer tool. If you sign up through this, it’s another way to support this newsletter (thank you).
I also have two daughters. They are grown now but they are the most precious parts of my life and mean everything to me. They are also artistic. One daughter's painting is on the wall in my dining room. The other daughter's painting is in the living room at the entrance to the hallway. Now I have grandsons and they also love to draw and paint. Thank you for sharing your family with us, your readers.
Beautiful story! I wish my father had felt the same way about me.