Whatever difficulties I seem to have with 'relationships,' one relationship exists that I have so far not messed up: the father-daughter relationship. We had been invited to a wedding yesterday, and Annie really didn't want to go. I toyed with letting her go to a friend's house, but ultimately (and selfishly) decided she should come with me. I was glad to have her there. It was a very long day, and she was on very good behavior. This morning she woke to greet me with two Fathers' Day presents.

The first was a t-shirt that she had decorated. It says things like 'Happy Father's Day,' 'I love you,' and 'you are the world's greatest dad.' I love it and will be sportin' it today with pride.

The second was a poem that she wrote in school that made my eyes water.

My Dad, by Annie Hockanson

My dad's eyes are as blue as the ocean sparkle.

My dad's face is like a cloud of smiles.

My dad's heart is like white fire.

My dad's hands are as tough as old boots.

My dad's mind is like a wise owl.

My dad's voice is like trees dancing.

I love my Daddy!

In particular, I am fond of the part about the trees dancing. That won't mean anything to anyone else but us. I have written about it on here before, but I'll explain it again because I repeat myself a lot. Yes, I am aware of it.

When Annie was tiny, I tried to find various ways to calm her when she was upset. I had a number of tricks, but there was one that was the most powerful, although it was only available on windy days. I would take her out on the deck, hold her tight and start swaying back and forth in what has become known as 'the Daddy Dance.' As the wind came through the valley, the redwoods would sway back and forth. The tall trees have long been taught by evolution that they can bend quite far and be able to eventually stand tall and straight again. The tops of the trees would sway thirty feet in one direction, and then swing back in the other direction as a gust subsided. I would tell Annie that the trees were dancing for her, and she would get quiet and watch them. It had a strange calming affect on her. I did this even when she was technically too young for her eyes to focus that far, but maybe the changing blurry images still got to her. I'd like to think from her poem that she equates the calming strength, stability, flexibility, and grace of the dancing trees with my voice.

Maybe she doesn't but I'll go to my grave thinking it, now.

I hope she will always feel she can turn to me for emotional support and understanding, and that I am able to provide it.

One relationship going right out of so many gone wrong isn't the worst thing...