It is a well known fact of life that daughters are mysteries. They are born from their mothers who are the greatest mystery of all, so that shouldn't be too surprising. Daughters never stray too far from their mothers, even though they may stray thousands of miles away. Daughters and mothers are two of the same -- a kind of melding of purpose, plan and support beams for each other. It is a miracle, and a mystery. That we guys ever get the chance to talk, man-to-man, with them at all is kind of a mystery, too. We simply don't speak the same language -- they speak with their hearts, we speak with something more roughhewn, more base, and more basic. A man marries and he is at the top of the pecking order, and food chain. With each successive addition to the family he moves down. Baby arrives, he moves down. Cat arrives, he moves down. Second baby and he moves further down. And so on.
Which brings us to today's Flashback. The above is a picture of me and daughter on the old garage on Grove Street in G-Burg doing some re-roofing. It is a moment we both have talked about through the years. It was just one of those times when I had her all to myself. We talked of things that fathers talk to daughters about. We didn't get any work done. We were just together talking. Father and daughter. No mystery.
Today is Mackenzie's birthday. Happy birthday. There are many great daughters in the world. I'm happy I got the one I did.
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