Sigmund, Carl and Alfred

My daughter has gone from playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star to playing Chopin.

My little girl no longer bangs at the keyboard, legs dangling from the piano bench, glaring, focusing and concentrating with her tongue unconsciously sticking out, determined to hit every note. Now, my daughter sits at the piano, poised and with unconscious gracefulness and plays Chopin, with her eyes closed, transported to another place where she finds peace, beauty and meaning.

“Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard?” she asks. “Can you feel the music, daddy?“

There was a time I read my daughter stories at bedtime that enthralled her. “You can’t stop now!” she would exclaim, “I need to know what happens! How will I fall asleep not knowing what happens next!”

Now, my daughter plays music that enthralls me. Now, it is I that do not want her to stop playing the music.

My daughter is growing up. She doesn’t need ‘daddy‘ in the same way she needed me before. She doesn’t need to be dependent on me for everything. ‘Because I said so,‘ is no longer a rationale that ends an argument we might be having.

In many ways, she is still a child. That said, it is clear that she is leaving childhood behind her and becoming an adult. She is no longer testing the waters of independence. She has taken her first independent steps on the unmarked road that will define her life. I am glad those steps are firm and not tentative. She knows right from wrong. We are lucky, her mother and I. Nowadays, that appears to be a lost survival skill.

There is much I have to be grateful for. She favors her mother in many ways. My daughter is beautiful, talented kind and full of grace, that ethereal quality. I also see much of my grandfather in her. She carries herself with a quiet dignity and is modest in character and deed. She has my father’s humor, gentleness and steely resolve, when needed, all in the right proportions.

She understood what it was to be a good friend from an early age, unlike myself, if those things can measured. Her classmates are loyal and they seem to enjoy her company. She instinctively knows when to take center stage and when to allow and encourage others to do the same. Those left on the periphery, were always brought close. Once, when she was 7 or 8 years old, she came home all beat up. One of the ‘ugly girls’ in her class, barely tolerated, was victimized when she got glasses. My daughter defended her friend with the determination of Teddy Roosevelt going up San Juan Hill. From that bloody battlefield a friendship was forged and that gangly and awkward ‘four eyes‘ grew into a lovely young lady, now headed for Oxford. I don’t know who is more grateful for the events of that bloody day- the Oxford beauty or myself.

She is learning to love- that other kind of love. Like all fathers even the thought of the inevitable pain she will endure as she learns about love and loss, is a knife that pierces into my heart. I don’t want her to suffer, even when it is best she does. Still, I resolve myself to the necessary truth. I wish her as little or as much pain as she needs so that she might find that kind of love that will help fulfill her destiny. I dread and rejoice at the very thought of that.

It will be bittersweet when that time comes and she has found another to love- and count on. I hate the truth that she already knows that there will be another, even more important man in her life. I also know she and I will always be close. Her new love will not diminish what we have and will continue to have, any more than another child diminishes the love a parent has for their other children. The heart is a remarkable, never ending fountain.

In a few short years, my daughter will forget the secret we share, as she must. The lyrics to I Loved Her First (music and video) hit the mark:

Look at the two of you dancing that way
Lost in the moment and each other’s face
So much in love you’re alone in this place
Like there’s nobody else in the world
I was enough for her not long ago
I was her number one
She told me so
And she still means the world to me
Just so you know
So be careful when you hold my girl
Time changes everything
Life must go on
And I’m not gonna stand in your way

But I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep
And I prayed that she’d find you someday
But it’s still hard to give her away
I loved her first

How could that beautiful women with you
Be the same freckled face kid that I knew
The one that I read all those fairy tales to
And tucked into bed all those nights
And I knew the first time I saw you with her
It was only a matter of time

But I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep
And I prayed that she’d find you someday
But it’s still hard to give her away
I loved her first

From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep
Someday you might know what I’m going through
When a miracle smiles up at you
I loved her first

As I listen to her play Chopin, I still see that little girl with legs dangling from that piano bench.

The Anchoress post, ‘Listen,‘ (I read that everyday) has taught me about another great lesson and truth about what it means to be a parent. Sometimes, music is isn’t just about the music. Listening to my child play that music opened up a whole new world to me.

Fathers of daughters develop a secret and special ability to see the woman before them and the little girl that adored them, at the same time. We don’t talk about that, ever, because fathers need to believe that gift is special, unique to them. Fathers know that gift comes about as a result of loving their daughters with every single fiber of their being.

Like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, I cannot answer the question, “When did she grow to be a beauty?”

It just happened, thank God.