We were walking together, holding hands as we often do. She was singing for me as if I was her King and she was my maiden. We came upon a fork in the road. The left side was a wide, dirt road. Alongside the road was a green pasture. The cows were grazing on the countless daisies beneath the warmth of the sun. It was inviting.
She looked to the right. The weeds and moss were overgrowing on the old stone road. Trees lined both sides of the road for what appeared to be miles; their foliage formed an arch over the thoroughfare almost giving the appearance of a labyrinth. The way was narrow and dark; it was almost foreboding, but she – she saw brief glimpses of light shining through to illuminate the way. She always looks for the light wherever she is.
I was almost certain she’d choose to go left. I felt her grip tighten when she’d look to the other side. I listened to her breathe deeply and watched her bite her bottom lip – the way she always does when she has a big decision to make. The wide path or the narrow; the sunny and bright, or the dark and dim. “Can’t live with regret,” she’d always say. “Did you hear that,” she asked? “Hear what?”
She closed her eyes and said, “Listen,” they all sing a different song but together they sound like a symphony.” The leaves of the trees were rustling. “It’s an invitation,” she said, “they’re calling me.” She looked at me with that child-like grin. Her eyes opened wide as she tugged on my hand, raising her brows as if to ask if it was the right way to go. I nodded. She tugged my hand and took the narrow path. I could see that she was eager to answer the calling.
We walked forward. I was proud that my little girl chose the road less travelled. I was glad that she brought me along. It hadn’t always been that way. I surely thought I had lost her that summer she went off on her own to experience life. She was so young. They stole her innocence. I hope against hope that she’d return to me. Every day I wondered if she’d come home so I could restore what they took from her...and here we were – walking together down the straight and narrow path. Was she afraid? Yes – a little – but not enough to keep her from moving forward. You see, she let me be her strength. She depended on me for direction. Sometimes she’d walk ahead of me, but never too far and never without making sure I was close by.
I love her spirit of adventure. I love how she longs to love me the way I love her – deeply, purely, unconditionally. I love that she tries so hard to love herself as she is but that she’s never satisfied with staying that way. I love that her greatest desire is to please me. I love my little girl.
I love my little girl.
