Lost Boys...Seven Years Ago

 Facebook has a function where it shows you something you posted in the past. It highlights a memory from the day in history...your history, as chronicled by Facebook. This morning the above picture showed up as my memory.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words...

But, how many memories is it worth?

I loved this picture when I took it, and I love it still today. On this day in 2014 I was part of a community theater production of Peter Pan. I was a pirate--it's fun being a pirate. I worked with a tremendous team, from the director to the stage crew to the theater staff. Wonderful people.

Then there were the lost boys. 

If you've ever done a show with kids, you know it's a challenge. If you have a couple of kids in a show with adults, they usually do well. Maybe it has something to do with trying to impress the adults. I don't know. But when you get a gaggle of kids in a show, they do what groups of kids tend to do...

They act like kids.

Now, I don't want to give you the wrong impression--these kids were great to work with and did a fantastic job onstage and off. They were just loud and fun and enjoying their experience. For me, the photo caught their spirit, their joy, their wonder.

It's been seven years. I can't remember one of their names, but I've kept in touch with many of their parents (some were in the show...). They're no longer children, hopefully no longer "lost." They do what Peter Pan couldn't--or wouldn't--do...they're growing up. For me, the past seven years have come and gone with much of my life feeling the same. 

For them...it's a lifetime.

I hope our lost boys are still loud (within reason...), and joyful, and full of wonder. I hope they're above all happy, they way they used to be.

To My Daughter...On Her Birthday

I looked at the blog posts I wrote on April 24th going back seven years. I wondered if I wrote about my daughter on this particular day.

Turns out, I did.

Today my daughter becomes an adult, as far as the law is concerned, at least. She can vote. She can do other stuff eighteen-year olds do.

Parents often times talk about how fast their children grow--how time somehow got away from them. I remember hearing it. Now I'm saying it. I look at pictures of my baby girl and remember her falling asleep as I rocked her, singing to her and reading her stories, her laugh and smile, the way we did her hair with a single pony tail pointing straight up. She grew up with her mom and a house full of boys. She took gymnastics and later ballroom dance. Now she knits, she loves performing, she reads her favorite novels over and over again.

She's also spending time studying colleges and majors, figuring out not only who she is but what she wants to become. The joy of watching them grow up is in stark contrast to the pain of knowing those times are gone forever. There is opposition in all things, after all. The trick is to enjoy the journey. 

So, here's to you, baby girl. You can no longer be called that, at least in the eyes of the law, but to me some things will never change. I hope you have a wonderful birthday that will carry you throughout the year and for the rest of your life.

Love dad.