Flying with Angels
Me and the computer screen were having a staring contest. Finally, it got bored and switched to the screensaver. It didn’t matter to me, I still stared. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, just staring. Nothing exploding from my mind, bursting down through my fingertips and onto the screen. Kind of been experiencing creative impotency lately. I’m very much in need of a strong dose of intellectual Viagra. So, I stare at the monitor and it stares back.
My daughters come into the room and ask me if I’m writing. I reply, "Sort of." They look at the blank screen, then back at me.
The oldest asks, "Where are the words?"
I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea where the words are hiding.
"You can write another story about Buster" the oldest offers. They both like to hear stories about their pets, especially Buster the dachsund.
I continue staring at the blank screen, contemplating.
My youngest has a suggestion. "Why don’t you write about the best, best, very bestest girls in the world," and then with a smile as big as a Montana sky, she puts her arm around her sister and says, "write about us!"
I smile back because I know that she is right. I should be writing about them. About the way that they light up my world whenever I see them. About how they take me to a safe place, a fun place. Together we walk through our private world of laughter and sunny fields and rainbow colored waterfalls. We bounce on fluffy clouds and ride unicorns. We eat ice cream for breakfast and have sock fights. We cocoon ourselves from the outside world and be whatever we want to be, without the weight of other peoples’ scrutinizing eyes.
According to some supposed experts, my daughters need this interaction with me. I need it more. They are my escape, my salvation, my rebirth. My girls encourage me to run through their imaginations with them, to be free. All that they ask is that I be a kid with them. To forget, for a while, that I am expected to act a certain way. They play Peter Pan to my psyche and spinkle their magic Pixie dust on me, then howl with laughter as I fly with them.
So, the girls have been patient while the words flowed from my mind to yours. They said to tell all of you hello. But, now they are tugging at me, wanting me to hurry and finish.
They are calling me to join them.
I’ll come back to stare at the monitor later. The elusive words can stay hidden for another day. Right now, Never Never Land is waiting for us.
It is time for us to fly.
Take care.
How incredibly blessed you are to be able to fly with two beautiful girls whom obviously adore you as much as you adore them 🙂
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How lovely. 🙂 I have … um … a kitty. Together we roll (and unroll) a ball of red yarn. And she meows (or at least she did tonight) when she hears me fumbling with my keys outside the door. It is … so nice … to be so loved. I am happy for you and your girls. Very, very sweet. When you come back and stare? We’ll be here on the otherside of the screen. Waiting. ‘Till then …
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Very sweet. You’re lucky to have each other. You got both things accomplished, writing and spending time together. Thank you for sharing.
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Ryn: Thank you very much, that was very nice of you.
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So cool I think the best parents are those who never forget what it was like to be a child and can show their children that in life we need a repreve of real life. One of my sons friends told him “I like your mom she is just onther one of us kids” that was a nice compliment
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Getting to be a kid again is one of the best thing about being a parent. I have a boy. I get to be Spidergirl and Batgirl. Sometimes MJ or another damsel in distress. In play and out, he’s my little hero saving me from monotony and the pressures of the real world.
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Wouldn’t it be … lovely to fly. I haven’t had a flying dream in ever so long. How precious … that you’ve made a horse available for your girls … that they might taste wings as his (her?) footfall carry them through walk, trot and canter … over fences perhaps … certainly over hill and dale. Look Dad, no hands. Look Dad … my eyes are closed, my legs are relaxed, my feet secure …
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in the stirrups … and neither looking down nor imagining there would be any stop … I am flying … we are flying … we are sailing … sailing around the ring, Dad, and loving you for making one of our biggest dreams a dream come true. 🙂 I love horses. And I love the men and women who make them available to their children. Be well. Em
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I feel the same way about my own set of girls (plus a boy thrown in for good measure). They enable me to continue breathing…
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Hello Mate! Here’s your bottle of “intellectual Viagra”, sorry I’m so late with it. Whats up? I have to say that the whole Peter pan and pixie dust entry here about your girls was very delightful, special. It gave me a warm fuzzy smile. A fathers love is very special. It made me miss my Father (died 5 years ago) but it gave me a loving feeling. Thank you.</center
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You are so creative, such an artist. You should read my latest entry, its about special people like you and I. Have a fab weekend! <3 xoxox
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Yah, that screen saver, it’ll stare you out every time. : )
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Very nice. How old are the girls?
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Thank you for opening a father’s world with his daughter for me. I have never understood it, even though I am one and love my dad to distraction. I have never understood the look in his eye you describe. He’s remembering our time in Neverland…
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how old are your girls?
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