His Little Girl

He remembered the very day the arrow pierced his heart. She was less than a minute old and he felt it as real as any jolt to his chest could be. He was smitten from the second she made her abrupt arrival into this world. His baby girl. Even her welcoming howl couldn’t stop him from wanting to be near her; protect her. He wanted to howl along with her right there in the delivery room.

He watched her now, as proud as any father could be, something he’d had plenty of experience with over the years. She never was into ballet or dance or any of the usual girl type of activities. Not that she was a tomboy either. She always just seemed to prefer activities of a more intellectual nature. It worried him for a while but then he decided she had to be who she was; discover her own strengths and find her own way.

He smiled as he recalled the day she joined the debating team. Not long after there was no winning with her. She did her research; she knew her stuff. And she never lost. She always seemed to manage to debate the car keys right out of his hand every Saturday night.

And awards aplenty for her. Community service, top of the class, school council. She did it all. And did it well.

He looked around at the crowd gathered for this historic event. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that crisp January Inauguration Day. He stood tall and prouder than ever as she recited the Oath of Office of the President of the United States. The first woman. His little girl.