Innocence

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A young girl's innocence affects a father.
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WFEATHER
WFEATHER
1,905 Followers

6:35AM on a Thursday morning, and I was in a strange city for a conference. Granted, it was nice to get away from the office for a few days, but I certainly would have preferred to spend the time away from the office with my baby girl.

By sheer luck, I had been given a hotel room overlooking a park with a large lake, connected by a short, narrow river to one of the Great Lakes in the distance. When I had noticed this scenery the night before, I knew that I should at least take a long walk in the morning, heading toward the lake, for it reminded me somewhat of one of the lakes near where I had grown up several decades earlier.

As I crossed the street in front of the hotel, I had to admit to myself that the old woman at the coffee cart in the hotel lobby certainly knew how to make a powerful mint mocha. The slivers of chocolate she had included atop the whip cream only made the drink even better, and that simple, tasty addition almost – almost – made up for the fact that I was away from my precious Ember.

At this early summertime hour, there were quite a few people in the park already. Most passersby were either biking or jogging, although I noticed an elderly couple strolling hand-in-hand in silence with that dignified romanticism often seen only in couples who have shared some forty or fifty years together. Around the lake, lone individuals and a few pairs of people were either fishing or preparing to fish, and I had to wonder what kinds of fish lived in this lake, and whether the city kept the lake stocked with fish in order to obtain more money by selling fishing licenses.

I had never been particularly fond of fishing, finding it too slow and boring. My passion growing up had been auto racing, especially open-wheel racing, and that had been a keen interest for my entire life – an interest my baby girl did not really share but somehow tolerated.

Ahead of me, just off the paved path and sitting on the grassy shore, a young girl captured my attention. Perhaps six years old with long sun-colored strands already cascading to mid-back, she sat with her father, each of them holding their fishing poles, chatting quietly. While there is indeed something special about seeing a girl (or a female of any age) in a dress, I was glad that she was not wearing a dress – after all, fishing can be a dirty activity, especially if one must first dig in the ground to obtain one's own bait.

I made my way to a bench along the path just a little beyond the father and daughter, keeping clear of a rollerblading teenager clearly enjoying the first days of summer vacation. Sitting upon the bench, I looked northward toward the other side of the lake, to the shops and small restaurants beyond the northern edge of the park, thinking that I should explore that area so I could find a small gift for my sweet Ember.

I thought fondly of my baby girl, and somewhat lamented the fact that she was no longer a "baby girl." The first year of college behind her, she was enjoying a week of relaxation at home before her summer job began. Unfortunately, I was missing part of that week, missing some key time together, just her and me – missing the simple things, like quiet chatter during dinner, a long drive into the countryside, watching one of her many DVDs together...

A young man jogged past, and I was uncertain if the dog was leading him or if the dog was just accustomed to his pace, as there was virtually no slack in the leash as the dog ran ahead of him.

In my mind's eye, I envisioned Ember sitting beside me, sipping a tall latte, her legs swinging slowly back and forth as we sat in silence, watching the activity around the lake...

"Daddy!!! I got one!!!"

The little girl's innocent enthusiasm drew me back to the present, and I saw the gentle flex of her fishing rod as something pulled on the bait. In the immediate area, the other fishers all turned and watched her as her father assisted her in reeling in her prize and ultimately setting it upon the grassy bank. Clearly, she had been fishing previously on more than a few occasions, for the sight of a fish out of water and impaled upon a hook did not seem to bother her at all, and her loud comments continued, enhancing her innocent enthusiasm, and it was clear from several glances at the surrounding fishers and passersby that they were not immune to her enthusiasm, her eagerness, her rapture. The utter joy in her eyes and in her smile was particularly enthralling, captivating, spellbinding.

I watched for a few minutes more, then looked at my watch and realized that I needed to return to the hotel to prepare for the day at the conference. And as I left the lake behind me, the little girl's expressive voice seemed to follow me, causing my heart to ache.

*****

I had not even shut off the engine when my baby girl emerged quickly from the house, and I had barely exited the car when she practically tackled me. The hug we shared was indeed enthusiastic, as was the giddiness emanating from my sweet Ember.

"Do you have any plans for Sunday morning?" I asked, the sudden question clearly taking her by surprise.

"No, Daddy," she admitted. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I do," I replied, my hold tightening around her. "Early Sunday morning, let's do something different: Let's go fishing."

WFEATHER
WFEATHER
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