Gert likes me. I mean, seriously likes me. I don't know what I've done to deserve it. Yes, I'm her dad and she has a natural affection for me. Of course.
She makes me feel like a good dad. No, strike that. She makes me feel like Super Dad. That, in her eyes, I can do no wrong. Even when I'm an idiot and I do something wrong, she pats me on my cheek and says, "That's okay Daddy. You did your best."
Last night she went shoe shopping with her mom. Apparently it was a strictly fabulous experience. Shoes were tried on and now she no longer looks like David Banner transforming into the Hulk. Aside from her trepidation that this is yet another sign that she is growing up, which is something she defiantly does NOT want to do, she had fun.
They stopped at the local grocery store (now with lower prices) to pick up something. After they were checking out, they paused by a bench. It's the same bench where Gert and I have waited for mom while she checked out. It's difficult to tell to the naked eye, but this particular bench is not actually in the grocery store. It lays at the bottom of the ocean and when you sit down, you have to swim and avoid the fish and dolphins. It's a very special bench.
Gert stopped at the bench and said, "This is my special bench with Daddy! I need to sit here to remember my Daddy." So she sat down with a pensive look on her face, while the rest of the shoppers assumed that her father was dead and not sitting at home listening to Neil Young. She sat for a moment, reminiscing about the good times we've had swimming on that bench next to the machine that dispenses lottery tickets, hopped off and they came home.
Later in the evening I was tucking her into bed after reading a few pages from her book (more on that later). She hugged me. "Daddy, I'm never going to get married."
"Why not? Not that I'm complaining."
"I'm going to live here forever with you." Then she put her arms around my neck, hugging me cheek to cheek.
There are a few moments in life that can be described as perfect. And, frequently, those that are deemed perfect rarely pass muster upon reflection. This moment, with my child's cheek against mine and her small hands laced around my neck I experienced a perfect moment. One that I have folded neatly and filed away for another time.
About the book . . . she's recently become obsessed with the movie A Little Princess. Not the Shirley Temple version, but the superior Alfonso Cuaron version from 1995. I say superior in a completely superlative manner. Cuaron crafted and shot the most perfect children's movie ever made simply by realizing that kids aren't stupid and have the capacity to appreciate beauty and magic.
My daughter certainly does. She loves that movie with all her heart and has recently begun reading the book with her mom. Gert's five, yet she follows the narrative clearly and is engrossed in the written story of Sara Crewe. She even recognizes parts that were not filmed and subtle changes to the story.
I believe her connection to the story is twofold. One, it's very much about magic. Not the kind of magic that actually alters the world around you, but the kind that you believe in from inside of you. The kind of magic that transforms the person that you are inside, that allows you to see beauty in all manner of things. Gert has that kind of magic, and a staunch belief in it.
Second, is the root of the story. Yes, it's about a child suffering in an adult world. Children love that sort of story. But, at its heart, it's a love story. Not a romantic love, but familial love. Sara and her father are separated and torn apart by horrific means. But they fight, against all logic, against all odds, against the very forces of time, distance and even death, to be together as a family.
Gert makes me feel like Captain Crewe and she's my Sara, my Little Princess.
There's a scene in the movie that I can no longer physically bear to watch because of Gert (and she's noted the difference between the film and book version as well). They sit in Sara's room at her school, trying to say goodbye as her father leaves for war (unique in the film). Cuaron masterfully and gently cuts from a master shot to a series of medium shots and eventually to a closeup of the father and daughter. Sara traces her father's face.
"What are you doing," he asks. "Memorizing me by heart?"
"No," Sara replies. "I already know you by heart."
Tears me up every time because, by the time it gets to that point, that final close up, I no longer see two actors. I see the face of my own daughter looking at me.
So, for my little Gert I give you her favorite song from the movie. It's called Kindle My Heart. The very fact that she has the song, and the circumstances under which I was able to provide it to her, may only lead her to believe I really can do anything.
But, my little Gert, as Captain Crewe said, you can be anything you want to be, my love, as long as you believe. And I believe that you are, and always will be, my little princess.
Even if you do grow up and get married. Even with big feet.
