I’m sitting and staring at the rain, wishing that you were here, but you’re not. I’ve missed seeing your beautiful face, your enchanting smile, and your sparkling eyes. I remember all the fun we’ve had, the places we’ve been and the things we’ve seen. From museums to castles, planes, trains and cars, concerts and plays, we’ve shared them all. And all the wonderful things we’ve seen have been enlightened by your enjoyment of them. Sure, there have been trips that didn’t work out as we wanted, it rained or something was closed or it wasn’t what we expected, but you never complained. You just smiled and made the best of it, and I love you for that, it was never my fault. I bought you things, never wanting anything but that wonderful smile in return, which I always got. But I got so much more back, not especially material things, but things I treasured: Thank you’s, hugs and kisses, but mainly memories. Memories of your enjoyment and excitement at seeing something new or special. I tried not to impose my views on what was special on you, and I think I succeeded. You love the same things I do, and usually in the same way, so our trips were always an adventure for both of us.
So, I sit and watch the rain, waiting for the time you return, planning our next escapade, missing you while you’re doing what you have to do. Come home soon my beloved daughter.
This is a follow on from 'Two Notes' I suppose. Same wonderings, same thoughts.
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