Boyfriends

When my daughter Molly was little, I used to take her to a local ice cream shop called Big Scoop. She would typically get a bowl of ice cream that didn't sound too appealing to me — bubble gum or licorice as I recall, or something equally as nonsensical (Oof, I've really got an opinion about ice cream flavors). Anyways, on these outings with her I got in the habit of recording her eating her first few bites. I thought it was cute the way she dove into her ice cream eating sessions, but what made the recordings truly entertaining was when she realized she was being recorded. She would have this look of exasperation that often melted into laughter.

Another bit of tomfoolery that I would engage in with my daughter when she was young would be to sneak around our parked car when we were getting gas at a gas station. As soon as the pump was set, I would duck my head down just below the car windows and tiptoe to different sides of the car. Molly, still in a car seat, would keep her head on a swivel and look to either side to try and catch where I was. I would pop my head up on either side of the vehicle and, upon seeing me, she would swing her fist in my direction and burst into laughter; delighted to have caught me sneaking around. I, in turn, would laugh along with her, delighted to see the glee on her face. I would then duck my head down and continue the game until the gas tank had been filled and I heard the click of the pump.

Molly is twenty years old now and is a few months into her junior year at Colorado State University. I drove her back to college this past August. On that trip, at a gas station somewhere between Pendelton and Boise, I attempted to mimic the game she and I used to play when she was a child. She laughed and smiled... instantly acknowledging and appreciating the drawback to her childhood. She's been away at college for more than two years now, and in that time, I've often paused to appreciate just how close I am with my daughter. "She is the heart — my heart —that beats outside of my chest", is a phrase that has run through my mind on more than one occasion. Perhaps a bit overplayed and melodramatic... but the sentiment is a thought that revisits me on a fairly consistent basis. There is none who I regard so tenderly or so affectionately as my daughter.

About a week ago I met with some coworkers for a chess club meeting: an outing where we all get together and try our hand at playing chess. The outing consisted of me and four women in their twenties. On this particular evening, the meeting revolved around gab more than chess. My coworkers needed to commiserate with Cori about her recent dating miseries. Far from the anticipated subject matter of the gathering, I received an education in just how horrible dating for young adults is in the modern era. I walked away from the gathering a little bit wiser and holding a sympathy for my colleagues, but more than just a sympathy... I garnered an appreciation and a warm regard for them, for they endure these described mistreatments and yet pick themselves up and try again.

Leaving this gathering, I began to consider my daughter. She had garnered a boyfriend a mere month or so before arriving in Colorado for her freshman year of college. "This won't last", I thought to myself. To practically start with a long-distance relationship... my heart went out to my daughter for making such a choice, but I had faith in her.

I remember at the time not thinking much of the man she chose as a boyfriend. Looking back at my attitude then: It's not that there was anything wrong with him, I just think when the daughter you've grown up with is that beating heart outside your chest, no man is going to quite meet the mark of the partner you had envisioned for her. As the months of their relationship grew into years, the need to really consider the man she had chosen became apparent to me.

This past summer I went with Mikey and Molly out to "the pit": a clearing in the forest set against a bare hill where people go to set up targets and shoot their guns. I own a few handguns, so I brought those. Mikey, being a hunter, brought two or three rifles and a handgun or two as well. As this was Molly's first time shooting, Mikey and I both provided guidance. I remember coming along beside her to show her where her hands should be positioned, how to grip the rifle she was holding and how to look down the barrel to align the sights against her target. I did as good a job as I could to get her in a position where she was ready to shoot but Mikey, to his credit, assisted her in a more skillful manner than I could have ever done. He articulated what she needed to do far better than I had been attempting. Everything from where she needed to have her hands to where she needed to be looking was laid out for her in a detail that surpassed my own paltry offering. He was patient with her. He encouraged her when she didn't hit her target and celebrated her victory when she did. I could tell he took joy in seeing her happy, and that was an encouraging sight to behold.

This past weekend Mikey visited Molly in Colorado. He travelled from Skagit Valley Washington to Fort Collins, CO... no small trek. He did so on this particular weekend because Molly had a desire to be with him on Halloween. She wanted the two of them to dress up in matching, themed Halloween costumes. He made her wish a reality... painted nose and all. They dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Fox from the movie, Fantastic Mr. Fox. They even recreated a scene from the movie at a grocery store in Fort Collins.

I do not know what the future holds for these two, but I am continually encouraged by the way they treat each other. They communicate. They celebrate each other's successes. They comfort and encourage one another when one of them is feeling low. They treat one another with kindness, respect and decency. He adores her and my daughter is happy. I cannot help but feel a joy at seeing my daughter happy.