OHHH! DEREK MUST LONG TO HOLD AYN AGAIN

I am a grandfather of five, three boys and two girls. The oldest girl is eleven and her two brothers are nine and seven. Their cousins are a boy soon to be seven, and a girl who is four. The four year old comes to our home twice each week so her mom can go to work for those days. I hug each child when we see one another. They permit me to do that, and they seem to enjoy the caress of attentive love. That littlest one, four years old is at a rewarding stage for me. She loves to be cuddled. She curls on my lap and snuggles. We look into one another’s eyes and call each other outlandish funny names. We play eye spy with my little eye. We paint, we read, we watch cartoons. And she may sit for hours on the floor with a doll house and a castle of plastic and little synthetic people and carry on true to life conversations, until she says something out of character like, “just get on with it.” To which I have said, “Did you just say “Get on with it” and she has replied, “No she did,” her finger pointing to one of the little people.

Ayn at play

Derek must long to wrap his arms around his girl, to see her eyes, and the soft smile on her lips, to hear her laugh, to hear the sound of her voice.” He must miss the touch of her skin. The physical longing for his own daughter of the same substance as himself must at times be unbearable.