daddy daughter dance

There was a time, during the first few months of her life, when I imagined that their relationship would consist of scattered weekends together. Hundreds of miles between them. A plane ticket necessary for every meeting. Awkwardness. Exotic adventures planned in attempt to make up for the lost minutes, hours, days and weeks until their next meeting. Two completely separate lives that would occasionally intertwine. The planned divorce would have put so much emotional and physical distance between them, I wasn't sure how well they would even know each other.

But things didn't turn out that way.

They have a unique bond, those two. Special games. Inside jokes. They adore each other. And they were equally excited about their first daddy/daughter dance this weekend.

They had planned to walk home from the dance. But it was dark and raining, so I decided to offer them a ride. When I caught up to them, she and a white balloon were tucked up under the black umbrella. He was walking in the rain wearing her headband, which had become too tight for her early in the evening. I asked them if they would like a ride. And she said, no...she would rather walk home with her daddy.