I made it to school early today. Normally, I get there with about ten minutes to spare before the first bell, but this morning I had about thirty minutes to prepare for the day. I guess I had anticipate the roads would be slicker than they actually were.
After I looked over some notes, I had to go an put my lunch in the refrigerator. I walk around the corner to head to the teacher's lounge and see a fellow teacher walking with his one year old daughter. She is well known among the staff, so when we walked in to put his lunch away, she just walked around in the hall. I could hear her saying, "Dad? Where Daddy?" and she put her hands up in a quizzical manner. We met eyes and she asked me the same question. She reaches out and takes me by the hand so I can help her look for her dad. He walks out of the lounge and I say, "Here he is!", and all is right in her world. I walked in to the dark lounge to put my lunch in the fridge, close the door, and begin to cry. While Sophie wouldn't be walking (she'd be about eight months old as of today), she would be crawling around. I wonder if she would be babbling what I would say is "da-da". I wonder what our lives would be like, how Izzie would treat her younger sister, how much she would help us with feeding her and at bath time. I wonder what my days would be like coming home to two beautiful little girls and see them napping together. I stand there, by the counter trying to compose myself when I happen to catch a glance at a ziploc bag full of plastic spoons and knives to my right. There is a single napkin folded in half in there, and printed on that white napkin above the fold in yellow, is a butterfly with it's wings outstretched. Instantly, this overwhelming sense of peace and sorrow filled me all at the same time. She still wasn't going to be there when I got home, but she was there with me at that moment, to let me know "It's ok, Da-Da. I'm here now."
I miss you sweetheart, and I love you too...
No comments:
Post a Comment