More poetry ...

I met a girl named Maya
And I just had to say,"Hiya!"
Then she smiled
And the sky turned blue
And I had to tell her,
"I love you."

My dad made this poem up for Maya at lunch one day. I had forgotten all about until just the other day, when she reminded me about it, and recited it for me. And all of a sudden I felt I had spent an instant in Maya's world, thrilled that her grandfather had made up a poem just for her. Such a trifling thing for him, but so amazing for her. I'm remembering all the stories he made up for us when we were little (Pig and Elephant. The Three Magic Chocolates.), my doll house that he wired for electricity, the puppet theater that he drew on cardboard with pastel crayons. Each one was a thing of beauty. We've had difficulties, I don't want to sugar-coat our relationship, but looking back on it now, I feel so lucky. He brought a rich imagination to our lives and made me feel loved, always.

Sometimes, when Nabil is being particularly nice to our children, I think, "Wow, I wish I could have had a father like that." Particularly when he's telling them "Sure, why not?" at a time when I just know my father would have said, "No." But, really, on reflection, I'm very grateful for the father I had.