Though a days away, I often dream of my daughter.

She's not even here and I love her. 

I see her vividly, it's almost surreal.

I close my eyes and there she is, in the house I grew up in, waiting eagerly on the floor for me to braid her hair. She wears a half smile, perhaps because I abandoned her yet again, and my usual visits of 8 hours have progressively been getting shorter. However, every time there she is, waiting. 

She never calls me "Daddy", she always says "My Daddy". This is especially special to me. To her, I am the first man she will ever love; I am hers, solely hers. Every time I start her hair, halfway through she makes a distressed face and looks back at me. I always stop and stare back at her, the auburn ray of the evening sun always strikes her face brilliantly. God took extra time making her, she's beautiful. She always reminds me of an ancient Italian painting custom. The painters believed that the only thing that can be perfect are the gods. Therefore, when finished, artists would smudge their paintings somewhere barely noticeable, as to appease the gods. She on the other hand, had to be made by God himself, for there is no smudge, no imperfection, no fallacy in her. She is flawless.  Staring back at her I always ask her "What's wrong, baby?", the same question I ask her mother from whom she'd inherited that expression from. No matter how many nights she'd ask me this, the gravity of this question never weakens. "Daddy, are you gonna leave me again?". 

Every time she asks this I feel my heart drop and my jaw tighten.

"Baby, I'm never gonna leave you."

 

"Promise?"

 

"You are literally the most important thing in my life, you're my heart. I'm not going anywhere, I'm your Dad."

 

She always smiles, reassured, and hops up to hug me and kiss my cheek. 

I always think the same thing when she hugs me. 

 

'This is my whole heart here, everything that is good in me, is here. She is an angel, my angel, my sunshine.'

 

I hug her a little tighter every time.

By this time it is time for bed. I take her upstairs and wash her, show her how to brush her teeth (even the hard to reach back row or as she calls them "the sneaky ones"), and tuck her in.

I have the same scenic view every time.

The moonlight illuminating her skin perfectly, her deep Hershey eyes staring back and me, and her clutching her beloved teddy bear, Charlie. I read her Greek mythology, just like my mother did with my brother and I until she can barely lift her eyes.

Sleepily; she always says "Time for you to go Daddy."

I look at my watch and agree. 

I kiss her on her forehead and reiterate how much she means to me. Her reply is simple but so pure.

"I love you too."

I get up and walk over to her door, twisting the knob as softly as possible, and step to exit.

Arguably the best part of seeing her every night, is when I'm leaving. She is always so peaceful. Always, as I'm exiting she is already asleep, and right before I close the door behind me, I hear her shuffle and in her sleepiest voice, I hear her whisper "My Daddy" to herself.

That always makes me cry. Even as I've broken my covenant with her, promising I'd never leave her, she still loves me, I'm still her daddy. And I will be her daddy upon my return.

 

Then, I wake up.

Everyday I wake up trying to better the man that will one day be known to his princess as "My Daddy".

 

I can't wait to meet her.