You wont be seven forever

I took you out last night, Daddy Daughter Date. You were so excited. You looked so pretty. When your brother looked at you in your blue dress, midnight, the color I remember half moon lake where I grew up, he said, “You look like a women!” his cheeks blushing. The necklace was made with your own hands, and you were both beautiful. Your mom took our picture, and that’s when I saw it, you wont be seven forever.

I walked you to the Volkswagen, and you climbed into the back seat, a mess of arms and legs. You were slightly annoyed at having to ride in your old cast off booster seat, and I had to help buckle you in, but I will take it today.

The dinner was Italian buffet and you ate two plates of spaghetti and noodles, and two breadsticks. I even got you a cherry Sprite, and you were so happy. I know in 10 years it will take more than a cherry Sprite for you to be happy, but I will take it today.

Rainbow sherbet for dessert and we took a silly picture with a polaroid camera, the memory of the evening seared onto photo paper, and that’s when I knew it, you wont be seven forever.

You gave me a handwritten card that said you loved me because I was “Brilent” . Please always give me cards. You held my hand as we walked through the parking-lot and called it a perfect night, commenting on the nice breeze, the moon rising, and how nice we both looked. I opened the door for you and you said excitedly, “Daddy! You are like a gentlemen in disguise!” That’s when I heard it, you wont be seven forever.

I know in 10 years it will take more than noodles, cherry Sprite and holding my hand for you to be happy, but I will take it today. Even though you wont be seven forever, you are seven today, and that is enough.

 

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