I sat in Izy Coffee yesterday morning and watched a dad with his 12-year-old daughter.  They were both on their phones but there was a tiny line of light joining their faces.

At one point, the girl rushed over to dad to show him an image on her screen.  She leaned over with a hand on his shoulder.  His was on her waist.  I smiled … and sighed.

Jody and I decided long, long ago to not have any kids.  We would travel instead.  It’s one of the few things I regret.

I have a friend who’s in her mid-twenties … Lopke Bruylandt.  The only challenge I have with Lopke is pronouncing her last name.  Her first name is easier (Lōp-kuh).

We talk easily, roaming around topics of the heart.  When I meet someone, I want them to say what’s important to them, and to tell me stories from their life.  Lopke does that, and she’s curious about what moves me.  Our conversations are curved – no straight lines, no sharp edges.

We met months ago at a “Talking Donkeys” open mic session at Minard.  I had sung and Lopke came up to me with words of appreciation.

A week ago I said to Lopke “Oh, I wish I had a daughter!”

She replied “I’ll be your daughter.”

My mind wouldn’t let those words land … and we drifted on to the next exploration of life.

But later, maybe days later, Lopke’s words were scattering my brain cells, splattering me on the sidewalk of my mind.  I was stopped.  I was stunned.  Me?  A father?  At 76?

Lopke is young and pretty.  Thoughts of sexuality come easily to me.  But those thoughts are outshined by other words:

My daughter

My child

Father

Dad

Oh … the immensity of this.  Revering a woman who somehow “comes from me”.  Wanting her to be supremely happy.  Cheering her on as she creates her life.  Knowing I would fall under a bus to prevent her from doing so.

I tried out these words with Lopke:

“You are my daughter”

I started shaking.  My eyes were flooded with something growing.  It was an unknown and blessed world.

And as for the sexuality?  Next lifetime.

***

I have an image of Lopke’s wedding day, if she chooses to marry.  I get to walk her down the aisle towards her beloved.  The thing is, Lopke has a real dad whom she loves very much.  If the day comes, that walk will be his pleasure.

I just reread the last paragraph.  Perhaps Lopke’s father and I are both “real” dads.

Love is love