As I Know Them

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I left them as I know them.

At the airport as they stood in line for departure I saw my husband as I have him in my head: His freshly laundered white tee that he had carefully pressed in the a.m. already had a mark front and center where his daughter's mystery hand smudge left evidence.  

"I don't know why I bother trying.." He sighed. 

But it is him and what he does. 

His face bore the look of worry he has every time he flies and his look of fear was that of a man who knows his daughter will get everything she wants on a long international flight. 

Whatever game she wants him to play with her... Whatever movie he must carefully watch with her without diverting his eyes, whatever snack he must allow her to feed him while asking with each morsel "Zat good, daddy?" and every color marker she must hold all by herself will be at the ready. 

I left him with a new album downloaded moments before we left the house so he could have the latest Arctic Monkeys for his listening pleasure if his daughter allowed him time to himself... 

And her...

I left her in the freshly laundered clothing that already had marker stains across the top and pants from her coloring endeavors on the road to LAX.  I left her with a backpack of playthings, books, stickers, iPad with a brand new movie download (Monsters University) so I could picture her in flight giddy at seeing "D' TWO Monsters Movies!" Instead of just one.  I left her with fresh clothes to arrive in that had been gifted previously from her nana and grandad so they could see her just as they know her. 

I left her with a mass of hair that looked unkempt despite my combing earlier in the day. 

I left her with a kiss. 

I left her as I know her.

Tiny and perfect and like a ragamuffin.  I was lucky, at least, that she hadn't taken off her shoes and socks (again) while standing in line.

Like me, she can't stand the confines of footwear. 

I left them in anticipation. 

I left them with tears in my eyes. 

I left them as I know them.


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