home Uncategorized Dear Tara,

Dear Tara,

At three o’clock in the morning, I was hovering over your little bed. You were very busy sleeping, and guarding that little furry long-eared rabbit from nasty dreams and evil spirits. Rabbit snored peaceful and happy. You looked like the magical princess of Avalon: cute, fragile, innocent and with strength to spare.

Exactly one year ago, almost to the minute, you cuddled yourself into my life. That very first moment, on your mom, when your tiny hand reached for my finger, you turned me into your eternal knight. My life will never be the same again. I can feel your little silhouette etched in the fabric of my heart, your happy voice moves the shadows of my soul. We are linked, one, intertwined, stringed. You complete those things in me that were unfinished. You soothed where it was raw, and hurt.

I can feel you think. I can sense your every move. Your clear magic blue eyes find me everywhere, and turn this dark world into a splash of rainbow.

I love how you turned my wife into a mother, how there is a burning fire of love warming in her now that will be yours for as long as you live. I love how you killed my demons, how you ease my restlessness.

I love how you learn: fast, needy, quick. How you store away knowledge, how you file every little discovery for future reference. How you make your world your own, building your power and magic on the tiny bits of yesterday.

I love the unconditional trust you have in me, when you hide yourself deep in my arms, your head on my shoulder, your thoughts in mine, your fingers playing with my hair. You give without counting. Your happy laugh chases the bitterness of the world away.

Who cares if an orange clown almost makes it to president, or if some trigger-happy testosterone driven bad boys want to play with their nuclear power toys for some sheet of land. Who cares some idiots in the name of some abysmal spirits they call their gods justify all kinds of atrocities… when I look in your sea-deep eyes, I can see the future of many stars, of kindness, of nature reborn and sins forgiven. If only we can make this planet keep on turning without blowing it into the flying hillbillies until your generation takes over, we will be all right.

It’s your birthday, my little priestess of the Tor, my little queen of the Druids. In a while the sun will rise in your queendom. Mom will have a present for you, and a cake. With a candle.

I Love You,

Dad

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