Once in a grand, grand while, life drops its guard and lets you see it uncovered, naked, true for what it is, unashamed. Sometimes the revelation is horrifying. Most times, thankfully, it seems to be beautiful beyond the power of words to capture. This story is not fictional. It is real, and I have to swallow once or twice when I realize how long ago it happened. But, then, time does have its fun with us. A century ago is yesterday, ten years from now, tomorrow. It does not matter. We ride that line of time and become one. Please, please let yourself be aware of the moments when life drops its guard for you. Do not let yourself miss them as you ride.

Bedtime

One of the most important parts of my day is when I go into my daughter's room to say good night to her. I'm not usually in there for very long. What's important is those heart-to-heart talks we have when I am.

"Did you have a happy day today, Darlin'?" I usually say.

"Yep."

"You did a great job catching that fish."

"Yeah, and I did it all by myself and you helped me cast and do you remember that when you tried to help me catch that other fish you jerked the fishing rod and spun me around and you almost knocked me in the lake?" Her eyes get wide here. This is the good part. She has really launched herself into this recollection, and the enthusiasm is bubbling. She giggles, then continues.

"I'm going to send my stories to a publisher, and he's going to publish them into millions of books and sell them all over the world and we're going to be zillionaires and then we can get a motorhome and travel all over, but we'll keep our house, because I'm going to live here forever."

"Publishing your stories is a great thing," I tell her. "And I sure like the part about travelling all over in our motorhome."

"Yeah, and we can go back to the campground we went to last summer and stay there a month and I can see the humongous frogs and go swimming and watch the falling stars at night when we sit by the campfire and we can roast marshmallows and I'll be glad we have our motorhome because it's too long of a walk to the bathrooms, especially when I have to go real bad."

This spontaneity is, to me, so much of what life is really about. I can feel the child-like excitement awake and stir within me. I wonder at having ever let it slip away.

"I would like that, Darlin," I tell her. "I would like that very much."

Then she gets her serious look.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Darlin'."

"It's like we're all connected in our family."

"Is it," I ask her, puzzled at where this one is going.

"Um-humm. It's like everyone in our family is connected by this great big long string, and that no matter what we do or where we go, we'll always be connected by that string, and so it's sort of like we'll be together no matter what."

I am not very often conscious of standing this close to the beauty of God.

"That's a beautiful thought," I tell her, when I'm able to speak once again. "A very beautiful thought. I will remember it, and you try to, too. O.K.?"

"O.K. Daddy. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my little Darlin'. Sleep tight."

As I said earlier, I'm not usually in her room for very long. Perhaps now you see why what's important is those heart-to-heart talks we have when I am.

Your comments or questions are welcome at houghton@classicpreservation.com.

© H. Houghton

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