The Father's Dance

There comes a point in every boy's life when he suddenly turns around and finds himself to be the 56 year old father of the bride, walking his amazingly beautiful and graceful youngest daughter down the center aisle to the handsome -- dashing -- young man who now becomes number one in her life. This is one of those never-to-be-forgotten moments in both lives. Certainly in mine. One of two major moments this past Saturday for Tracy and me. The Aisle Walk and the Father's Dance. Not that there were not many, many other memorable moments -- but these two mark the transition from one phase of two lives to the next with a certain unmatched emphasis.

It was easy to become distracted in the previous days and weeks by the planning, the family hosting, the bill paying, the anticipation of the frenzy -- the business of her wedding. Easy until that second that she steps through the door in her gown... this angel in white... this sophisticated, poised young woman. And for just a couple of seconds we both tear up in a rush of emotion that had been forced under the surface until that second. The you catch your breath, wait a moment for the direction that sends you down that narrow path between the sea of chairs filled with friendly faces that you don't even notice. You talk to her in subtext as you move, about the matching clover leaf tattoos you are going to get, about who is steadying who while you put your left foot down after your right. A kiss on the cheek, an admonition to the young man to "remember to be careful with this", and suddenly... you're dancing...

"Call Me Papa" is the song she chose. It was a long, sweet tune. I thanked her for the length of it.  Happy to have kept my feet off of hers. Hated to let go. But then life is all about letting go... It was an amazing evening.

Photos by Gar. Thanks, bro.