A Daddy and his Girl
I wrote this short story, in its original form, a couple of years before our oldest daughter London was born. Call it what you will, but this was the vision I’d had in my mind for whoever that child would someday be. Maybe it was out of more hope or desire for the child I might have and the father I would strive to be than some kind of real clairvoyance. But it was striking, regardless, to look back on this story years later and see how true to life the story ended up being…
A Daddy and his Girl
The little girl’s eyes shined bright through the echoes of the morning mist. She stared in wonder at the beauty of the ocean, its vastness and its calm. And although a comforting fog was draped around her, the sun in its ethereal determination made its way to her and her daddy as they sat together on a weathered wooden bench in the early morning.
The little girl wondered.
“Daddy, if there is a God and he made everything, then why does he make the ocean so calm and pretty some days then stormy and with hurricanes on others?”
Her daddy laughed softly. He watched his little girl adoringly as she gazed off into the horizon in quiet contemplation of the question she’d just asked. He brushed her blonde hair from her eyes as salty sea mist fought for control against a cool light breeze. She smiled, tipped her head shyly and leaned forward, shrugging her shoulders as she giggled. She didn’t know quite why she giggled—only that Daddy had giggled, and it made her giggle too.
Her daddy smiled gently. He always wanted to answer her questions with the intelligent type of response he believed she should always hear. “Well, young lady, maybe you’ve answered the first part of that question already,” he said.
“What do you mean, Daddy?” Her little legs stopped swinging as she focused on his words.
“If there is a God,” he said matter-of-factly. He paused, giving her time to grasp what he was saying. Her brilliant blue eyes widened as she figured it out.
“Oh…but how did I answer that?” she asked.
Her daddy looked up at the settling morning fog. Below it, soft white sprays quietly swished off the seawater as its journey came to a temporary halt, the ocean’s endless current gently colliding into an unyielding sandy beach shore. He folded his callused hands in his lap. “Well, if we insist there is a God, then we’ve decided there is a creator who is all-knowing and all-powerful…right?”
She thought for a few seconds. “Yes,” her little voice replied firmly as she nodded.
“And, don’t you think that the calmness of the ocean on some days and then its brutality on others reflects a sort of struggle?”
“Yes,” she confirmed again.
“So, do you think an all-knowing and all-powerful being would create a world that is never truly in balance—as it seems to be with the ocean and everywhere else in this world?” The little girl sat silent, considering her daddy’s every word. “Really, this world is made up of barely balanced chaos, right?”
She thought for a few moments before forming her response. “Yes Daddy, you’re right,” she said. “But…maybe the God wanted it that way?”
He laughed and she joined in, her dainty giggles made even more apparent in contrast with his deep belts of laughter. “Baby girl, I love you,” he said. “And ya know what? You’ve just discovered the timeless debate between people who believe in a higher power and those who don’t.”
The little girl gazed at her Daddy’s face as the morning sun glimmered off his dew-misted skin. She thought he was just the most handsome man in the world. “There’s really no answering the first part of your question,” he continued, “and because of that there’s no answering your question at all. So it really all comes down to this: what do you believe.”
He paused to let her consider. She looked out into the expanse of ocean again and slowly nodded. “Someday,” he said, “I’d like you to figure that out for yourself—what you believe. And when you do, I want you to be able to answer that same question without wavering…with conviction.” He clenched his hand in a fist as he spoke that last word.
She giggled again. Her daddy always got so serious about things. Mommy would often tell her how silly he was when he did that. He smiled warmly as he wrapped his arm around her, hugging her tight and kissing her tenderly on the head, not having a clue that she was giggling at his seriousness.
She looked up at him wrapped in his embrace. “I love you, Daddy,” she said sweetly.
“I love you too, baby girl,” he said as lovingly as could be, as he gently squeezed another hug. After a few quiet moments he eased his hold. He patted her softly on the back and with a palpable tinge of hunger-fueled excitement said, “Now, how about we go see what momma’s got going on for breakfast?”
