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His nine year old stepdaughter grabbed his hand and said, “I need to talk to you.”
She turned away from him, still maintaining as firm a grip as a nine-year-old girl could muster, and pulled him towards the spot which she had chosen to have her little talk.
He got up from the kitchen table, his tie still undone around his neck, and left a fresh bowl of Frosted Flakes, into which he had just poured close to freezing milk, waiting to be eaten.
He knew they would be soggy by the time he returned, but he knew his step-daughter now as well as he knew his own beautiful daughters, and he could tell by the look on her face that this conversation could not wait, soggy Frosted Flakes or not.
Still holding his left hand in her right, she opened the inside front door with her left and stood aside and allowed him to walk past her and onto the enclosed porch. She quickly followed and closed the door behind her.
She led him to a wicker loveseat and he sat. She pulled the wicker ottoman, as the wicker chair and sofa were much too heavy, directly up to his knees, and she plopped herself down and placed her hands on them.
He thought for a moment that they were going to play patty cake, which had become one of their favorite things to do together.
His mind brought him back to the first day he had met his stepdaughter about a year ago…..
He had been dating her mother for almost six months and he had known from their first meeting that he wanted to spend the rest of his life taking care of her and her daughter.
They both decided it was time to meet her daughter.
So one night, he came over for dinner and to meet her for the first time. Her mother thought that would be comfortable for her daughter to be in the comfort of her home the first time meeting him.
Her mother had told her so many things about this wonderful man for the past half-year.
He arrived and his (hopefully) bride-to-be met him at the door. Everything hinged on her daughter eventually agreeing that marriage was a good idea.
His kids were already on board.
Her daughter was upstairs in her room. They gave her the space which she seemed to need and they both sat down at the dinner table.
She was called down and down she came, holding an 8 x 10 photo of her biological father against her chest. She sat down at the dinner table, her left arm embracing and pressing his picture against her.
She ate dinner that way.
No one mentioned it and he conversed with her without showing a worry or fear. Upon finishing her last piece of macaroni she asked if she could be excused and she was given permission to leave the table.
Up to her room she went.
They knew when she had gotten there by the slamming of her door against its jamb.
That was over a year ago and he was very proud at how hard he had worked to respect this beautiful little girl, but also to give her the love that she so desperately needed from a father.
His mind brought him back to the present, where her tiny hands were on his knees and she was simply staring at him.
He let her collect her thoughts.
She leaned towards him and he subconsciously did the same.
She whispered, “I decided what I want for Christmas.”
A great sense of relief came over him. So many worries and concerns had been racing around his head as she sat in silence in front of him for those few moments on their enclosed porch.
He had seen her going through every online toy store the past few days and printing out her favorite choices. This was going to be easy.
Maybe those Frosted Flakes could be saved after all.
She bowed her head for a moment and closed her eyes. She slowly inhaled, and then slowly exhaled, and then picked up her head and stared directly into his eyes, her gaze never wavering as she said the following.
“There is only one thing on my Christmas list and it is the only thing that I want.”
“Shoot, he said, and I promise me and your mom will do our best.”
She whispered “I want to call you Daddy from now on, just like your daughters do. I want to be your daughter too. Please think about it.”
His mind and body, which had become limp and relaxed just a few moments ago, felt as if it was thrust against a wall. He was suddenly completely present and more focused than he had ever been. His mouth went instantly dry and his mind ignored all other stimuli as if they had been placed in a warm, quiet cocoon.
He knew, from his broken childhood, what these types of moments meant to such a young person.
Their eyes and hands locked.
She continued. “I know that you don’t have to and I know that I am not your real daughter, but you make me feel like I am.
When you tuck us all in at night, I never feel like I’m different.
When I call you because I am scared or need a drink of water, you always come in for me just like when they call you.
When you call home at night, because you are going to be late to say goodnight, you always make sure you speak to me to tell me that you love me and miss me too.
You really love me just like you love them. It is like you were supposed to be my Daddy. Please give me you for Christmas.”
Her mother’s tears were flowing uncontrollably and she was doing her best to be silent about it.
As soon as she had heard the inside front door close, she ran into the living room and sat on the inside couch. This put her directly under an open window with only a simple lace curtain shielding her from view. She had heard everything.
She had no idea that her daughter had wanted to speak to her husband let alone what she might have had on her mind.
As he sat in front of his stepdaughter, his eyes were full and his heart was full as well. This little girl had given him so much joy since he had met her.
He never believed that his feelings for a step-child could in any way match those of his own children and she had shown him how wrong he had been.
The first of the many tears he would cry that day fell on his cheek and he grabbed her hands and with a hoarse voice that the almost crying have, he said, “I would love to be your Daddy and will be for as long as you want me to.”
In an instant she was in his arms with her head buried in his neck. He could feel her tiny tears racing down his back.
As crying children so often do, she began to lightly shake and her speech became staccato, and she said over and over again, through her joy-filled tears and sniffles,
“I love you Daddy, I love you Daddy, I love you Daddy” until she lost her breath and had to rest.
For as long as she could remember she had wanted a Daddy to love her and to love. It was her first conscious thought upon realizing her biological Daddy would not be coming back so long ago.
Her mother, his wife, came out to join them and all three sat on their wicker loveseat and cried with the greatest joy and love in their hearts.
He wrapped his strong arms around both of them and rocked all three of them for what was a long time.
He finally understood what being a husband and father really meant and he stayed that little girl’s Daddy, and that beautiful woman’s husband, until the day he died.
