Because we are so close to Father’s Day, I thought it would be appropriate to do a little Daddy and Daughter story. This weekend, a very good friend of mine invited us for a day out on the Rappahannock, otherwise known as the “Rivah.” The day started like so many past beautiful Sundays. We arrived at the dock a little before 11:00 a.m. and unloaded the various accoutrements needed for a day on the water. Things then were hand-loaded into the hatches including all the familiar items such as coolers, various assorted beverages, hats, sun block, lunch, and towels. One item was completely new and almost seemed alien on this nautical landscape. I stared at it for a while and grinned because it looked so out of place. There, sitting by itself on a cushion on the 25-foot bow rider was a black and pink diaper bag.
For a few years now, I have been the designated “pilot” for my friend’s boat. A role I relish in! Few things give me such pleasure as driving a boat with the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and the smell of salt air filling my lungs. Today would be a little different than usual; we had a special passenger, my daughter Logan. We were underway, making about 25 knots, and I found my mind drifting into the “zone.” My eyes were scanning the horizon as I was searching for the next green channel marker. I was taking in all the things I normally do; the sound of the water as it rushed past the hull, noticing the wind direction by the flapping of a far off flag, the patterns and height of the waves, the diving of ospreys into the water, and the roar of the V8 engine. Everything was right in the world, when my brain was suddenly jarred by a very unfamiliar sound on the boat. It was very faint and soft and barely detectable. I swung my head aft to get a good look at what was causing it.
“Dah, dah, da, da, dah, da…”
There, sitting in her mother’s lap was the culprit. With a big smiling grin and slapping her leg in sync with the words, was my daughter. We cruised for another 15 minutes waving and smiling at each other until we came to a little known beach called “The Punch Bowl.” Only three other boats were there, all with families. For many years now I have been coming to this beach and watching my friend’s children sitting in the sand or running and splashing in the water. I was always very happy that they could spend that time with their children and a little jealous that I had none of my own.
That thought gently faded away as I hefted my daughter up into the air and gingerly handed her to my wife who was standing in knee-deep water. I jumped off of the bow of the boat and joined my family as we strolled on the beach. We journeyed a few yards to the back side of the little beach and found a calm pool of water. Little crabs, minnows, and shells were perfectly placed by nature as both my wife and I knelt down by the water’s edge. One tiny foot extended with a curious look by its owner and then suddenly retracted back as it touched the cool salty wet for the first time. Then, without warning, both feet trusted seaward and plunged into the mix of water and sand; beating it feverishly into a boiling froth. A squeal of excitement and laughter came from the small little face that sported a crooked little grin that looks so much like her father’s. I reached down, scooped her up and held my wife’s hand as we continued to stroll down the little beach…
I decided to capture this moment in words to express what it is like for me to be a father, and the simple joys a little girl can give me on her first trip to the beach. I never knew how smitten I would be with her or how much her life is such a gift. This memory she gave me will always be more precious than any future tie I will receive on Father’s Day.
Time is short but love is timeless…Happy Fathers Day!
