Now and Then

She grins. A dimple in her cheek and copper eyes remind me of a happy little round face not seen for decades which now exists only in dusty old photo albums at her grandmother’s house. She darts back and forth across the lawn in the warm sun. “Catch me!”

She’s surprisingly fast on her tiny legs, thinner and longer now than that of the wobbly baby that she was only a couple years ago. I snatch her up and swing her through the air. She squeals in delight as I produce my best propeller sounds. “Airplane!” she screams, flying round and round in my arms. When I was her age I delighted in taking flight suspended in my own father’s arms, dreaming of the day I would fly ever higher on my own. How far I’ve fallen, resigned instead now daily to a desk with my feet firmly grounded beneath a mountain of reports and emails so large I can seldom even see the sky. I want so much more for her. She giggles as we collapse onto the grass.

As I lay on my back, she clambers onto my chest and that familiar face looms gleefully. My wife could be resentful that after bearing and delivering our little girl she should look so much like me. She has my thick mess of dark hair, eyes, smile, pointed nose and lanky frame. Hell, she even has a little egg shaped birthmark on her shoulder similar to mine. She has stains of grass and dirt on her little palms and under her nails. You would never guess them from the little boy’s hands I had so long ago. I was always digging in the yard or climbing trees. Anything to escape boredom and find adventure. And while that boy’s scars remain here and there, reminders of all the climbs that went awry, the calluses have softened out and his nails are cleaned and manicured to his wife’s approval. The only climbing I do now is up the corporate ladder.

“Daddy,” she teases, reminding me that playtime isn’t yet over. It will be soon though, and her mother and I will set about making dinner, tidying up the living room and planning out the budget for next week. But for now, I roll her over and tickle her sides. “Stop!” she screams through fits of laughter. I let her wriggle out from under me and run away.

She does a lap around the wide yard as I watch with a mix of both jealousy and pity. The lawn is a soft green expanse setting our house far back from a quiet little suburban street. Sadly, there aren’t any great old oaks here or anywhere throughout our neighborhood for her to climb and conquer as I once did. Maybe soon we should plant one - I would have appreciated that.

Still, here she can enjoy the privacy and freedom of her own bedroom, even if one day she has to take up the mantle of ‘big sister’ - and it overlooks a pool! It’s much more than I ever dreamt possible, as what little I had back then was shared with six other - and older - siblings. She’ll never have to bunk with two brothers who will lay claim to all her toys; wait in line to use a bathroom; dread her first days to school because her clothes are worn, stained and baggy. But also, she will never be toughened by those same brothers, or learn to outwit them when she’s still just too little. She will never earn the strong sense of independence by striking out on her own to take up living in a barely converted attic and establish herself in a world with no room for her. Maybe she’ll never fully appreciate all that she has and all that has been sacrificed for her to enjoy her life here. Life behind a desk is no adventure after all.

My pocket buzzes. It’s another email from the boss - the fifth one today. I scan the body grimly as I’m sure to miss more dinners and bedtime stories this week. She’s still too young to fully understand or be anything other than excited by my presence, but my wife will be disappointed again I’m sure. I never meant for such a demanding career - I always wanted to avoid it. Growing up I swore I’d never spend my nights away from my kids the way my father frequently had, but years after losing him to drinking I realized it was still better to spend all these nights in an office rather than a bar. And look at the life it’s bought for us. As long as she doesn’t lose her father the way I did, I figure it’s worth it. I’m still here on the weekends like today!

A pair of tiny arms seize me around the waist and squeeze, and I force myself to stow the cell phone away. They didn’t really have these when I was a kid but she’ll soon have one of her own. She’ll plead for it for Christmas or a birthday and soon after her neck will always be bent as she’ll be crooning over it endlessly as when I first got mine years ago. I’ve been better about peeling myself from it since she was born. My wife had pointed out how we only live life through screens these days. I try to set a better example. That’s not how I want her to live her life but I’m always afraid it’s inevitable. I think back to the little boy riding bikes and jumping makeshift ramps behind a small overcrowded house. Would he ridicule her for staring at that screen all day? Maybe he would marvel at just how many games he could play on it and join her. I did enjoy games back then too!

With a faint but no longer uncommon pop in my knee, I squat down and return her embrace, holding her tight. I miss her but in doing so, I miss me. She pulls back and grins, only she’s the estranged little boy I haven’t known for so long. In almost every way she’s just like me - her mother always says so. But at the same time, she’ll get to be everything I could have ever dreamt of.

“What are you two doing?” calls a warm voice. My wife, resembling nothing of her own daughter smiles gently from the patio. With light hair and lighter eyes, I believe I would have been fond of her even as a boy. I realize some things about me never changed after all!

“Flying momma!” she says. “Daddy was helping me fly. Again! Help me fly again!”

“If you say so, kiddo!” She lets me scoop her up again. “Hold on!” I warn. We start spinning, making whirring noises all the while. She screams and laughs, arms outstretched toward the sky. Faster and faster, I can feel the tilting earth start to tug at me but I’m careful to keep my feet firmly on the ground so she can soar.