One or two Christmas’s ago my oldest daughter Ashley, who was 34 came home for a visit. Her visit was supposed to be for a couple of weeks to celebrate the holidays. She ended up staying much longer because she couldn’t pass a Covid-19 test. No matter how hard she studied she just couldn’t pass. A passing grade was necessary so that she could board a plane and return to her home in Guatemala City. At some point she was able to gain a negative result and fly away. I only bring her up because during her visit she said something to me about my interaction with my granddaughter Bella.

At the time Bella was 5 years old and I was 61. Bella has lived with me and my wife for most of her life. There’s a story here that I’m not telling but a couple years ago we adopted her. I had just put Bella to bed for the night having finished the last step of our routine. Our “routine” is a bit cumbersome but I’ll explain it. At approximately 8:00PM the process normally began when I personally escorted Bella to her bedroom. At this point it was my practice to cover her up, fluff her pillow and tuck the covers around her little body. I would then make sure the curtains on the windows were closed so that no tigers could peek at her while she was sleeping. It’s embarrassing to say that at this point in our routine she would then get up from her bed to go to the bathroom. I know it doesn’t make sense to tuck her in and close the curtains only for her to get right back up to use the bathroom. For Bella it makes perfect sense and to this day no suggested changes have ever been considered as it concerns the routine. When the evening potty visit was concluded Bella would once again get back into her bed. Before putting her head back on the pillow I had the mandatory glass of water in hand for her to drink so that she didn’t awaken late in the night with a sore throat. After adequately hydrating herself we reached the final steps of our routine. At that time Bella wrapped her arms around my neck, pulled my head down on the pillow with hers and began to pray. Normally Bella’s prayers involve a child’s request from God for safe passage through the night. They were prayers asking for the sweetest dreams of puppies with floppy ears…kitties that didn’t scratch…flying unicorns with rainbow colored tails and manes…and always…always a plea for the safety and return of her mom…amen.

“I miss my mom, Boss.”

“I miss her too, B.”

After the final hugs and kisses had been administered I would leave the room with the door perfectly positioned to not too closed and not too opened.

I’m sorry for that lengthy explanation of Bella’s bedtime routine but it adds some context to what Ashley said to me. As I left Bella’s door in the perfect position, Ashley was coming up the stairs toward me and said:

“I can’t wait for Bella to be grown so that I can talk to her and experience her as an adult.”

“Why is that?” I was a bit thrown off.

“You are always so nice to her. I’m interested to see what kind of grownup she’ll be after being raised be somebody so nice. I was always a bit afraid of you.”

I think Ashley’s remarks may have penetrated my only surviving feeling. She could have just said that I’m a better dad now than I was back when she was little. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs I had filed her words away for future reflection.

My wife thinks I’m a bit too indulgent as it concerns the “routine” and most other things as it concerns Bella. It feels like she’s reminding me to guard my heart against the day when puberty and hormones unite themselves against me. All she really means is for me to not spoil her. Long after the routine has been done and I’m fast asleep, at times I awaken to find Bella standing next to me in the dark while I sleep.

“What’s wrong B? Why are you up? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Can I get up there with you?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid the cat (who sleeps under my bed) will scratch my feet.”

“But why are you out of your bed?”

“I woke up and I missed you Boss so I came to see you.”

“Okay, let me take you back to bed.”

After taking her back to bed and climbing back into bed my wife told me that I should just tell her to go back to bed when she wakes me up. “She’ll do this every night if you let her.” She’s right. But I wasn’t compelled to make any adjustments in my or Bella’s behavior because I knew those midnight walks back to bed wouldn’t last. I intended to enjoy them while they did.

Ten years from now she’ll probably not like me so much so let me ride this train while it’s running….let me warm my face while the sun is shining…savor every drop from this cup handed to me by my own Father. These times are so temporarily sweet, do I really want to scold her back to bed or guard my heart against a nebulous “someday” when she loves me so much now? That’s a hard NO…I’ll take my chances. Someday she may break my heart but she’ll never be able to say she was afraid of me.

For Ashley’s sake I wish I were better…more approachable…more present and engaged when she was five but I’m inclined to give myself at least a bit of a break. I was Ashley’s age when she was as old as Bella. I’ve had thirty years and five other kids to sharpen my game. As it concerns our brief exchange on the stairs I appreciate her observation that I’ve gotten better in my parenting career. At the same time I recognize as it concerns all of my children that I probably left a lot of sweet times on the table untasted…missed…forever and irretrievably lost. I hope my children will forgive me if they’re of the same opinion as Ashley. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was focused on other things…less important things. I was trying to keep the lights on…food on the table…and a roof over our heads. In those days if someone would have asked me what kind of dad I was I would have pointed to the stuff my wife and I worked so hard to obtain as though that of itself answered the question. I guess it would be like asking me what kind of driver I was and as an answer pointing out my new car to them.