Twenty-one years ago today, Mrs. M and I made a trip across the river from Fort Thomas, KY to Bethesda Oak Hospital in Cincinnati. That evening, after having to wait a bit because the obstetrician was caught in traffic (Turns out traffic on I-75 could even stall his Ferrari), our daughter arrived. I was scared to death, and perhaps as a result of having watched too many cartoons, I kept wondering if she had extra fingers, but every time I’d count them, they were the standard allotment. As of this morning, that still holds.
I still worry about her, of course, but not as much. As I’ve told her, she might outgrow being a kid, but I can’t outgrow being a dad. Still, she’s bright, talented (if occasionally goofy), and tends to make pretty good decisions — that last, she likely gets from Mrs. M. And I also know that she’ll be here for at least another year-and-a-bit, until it’s time for grad school.
Still, I find myself thinking of the old saw I foist on my former students who become parents: “The nights are long, but the years are short.” And they have been, but I’m glad to have had them, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the next ones bring.
Happy birthday, Em — we love you. I love you.