My little girl

It was an ordinary day. Cars moved, men and women woke up and went to work,  children went to school, stocks crashed, flights took off, birds sang, flowers blossomed and fruits ripened.


He did not feel ordinary. He had the widest smile, tears were running down his cheeks. He was holding her in his hands. His own, his daughter.

6 months:


She was smiling at anyone she could spot. He came near her. Tickled her, turned her smile into an hiccuped laughter that made his day. She made a faint sound. Opened her mouth in a small 'O' and tried to imitate him as he was speaking to her. A muffled 'Pa' came out of it. He couldn't sleep that night.


4 years:


It was July and the rains were slashing hard. He was sitting next to her by the bed. She was shivering beneath the blankets. His hands could not keep her warm. Her temperature was shooting up every fifteen minutes. The doctor had promised to come as soon as he could. He was cursing the none in particular for having spared him and decided to hurt his daughter. The doctor arrived. It took three days for her to return back to normal. Three of the longest days he was ever through. On the third day, she held her hands and smiled. That moment he knew he'd never leave that hand.


7 years:


They were walking through the market. She suddenly stopped by a window. A teddy bear, pink in colour. All that she wanted was that and he couldn't get her. He promised her "I 'll buy you everything in here someday" Another sleepless night for him. He was the reason she cried, he was the reason she didn't smile.


10 years:


He used to take her for walks after dinner everyday. That was a busy neighborhood. He had plenty of stuff to tell her everyday. They discussed his work, her school, his colleagues, her friends. They were yet another dad-daughter one will find but in the world of theirs there were only two people and they had each other.

She used to run with him, walk on the side of the road where he wouldn't want her to. He'll chase her and persuade her to walk on the safer side. She'd smile, laugh and ultimately refuse.

He'd tilt his head, smile at her and say, "We can't play catch on the road" She'd retort back saying, "Yes we can"


Yes we can, three words to hear which he'd climb a million mountains and swim through a thousand seas.

12 years:


His daughter was not a 4 year old anymore. He had to make his stories less sillier. She started asking questions. She was growing up. She was making him proud. While being daddy's little girl all the while.


16 years:


It was her birthday. Her day. Her dad wasn't home yet. It was late in the evening. The phone bell rang. It was her dad. He asked her to check if there was a file on his table. Before she could answer the line got cut. She went into his room only to find it filled with all the things that she asked for when she was 10. The teddy bear was beaming at her from his desk. He had kept his promise.

25 years:
He was struck by pneumonia. The doctors lost hope. She was sitting next to him, holding his hands. He tried speaking, his voice was faint. He had a few minutes to say what she meant to him. It was like asking you to describe every beautiful thing on earth.

"I won't be able to get you gifts for your next birthday. I'm leaving you with the hope that I have given you all that you asked for. But what's so painful is deep in my heart I know that even too much is not good enough for you, my princess. My little girl"


:)

PS: Thanks to blog adda this post got picked as one of the spicy saturday picks :)