timewarp

Tell me, someone…please…

How did this girl…

…turn into…

…which turned into…

….which turned into…

…which, of course…became….

…which (after a few years) became…

…and then…

…then this…

…and finally this.

Someone tell me.  I’m at a loss for explanations.

I can accept the fact that I’m almost half a century old.  I have a hard time accepting the fact that Daughter 1.1 (she graduated) is over twenty.

I wonder what it’s like to have a child who doesn’t grab life by the cojones and squeezes until it submits to her will.

I wonder what it’s like to have a child who finds nothing interesting and isn’t curious about everything.

I wonder what it’s like to have a child who doesn’t  likes being around me and won’t hold my hand in public.

I wonder what it’s like not to be so blessed.

Now Daughter 1.1 is off for Milano in November (the city, not the over-rated cookie) for 18 months, thirty years after her old man left for Palermo and other parts nel mezzogiorno.  She’s leaving us.  Maybe not for good, but she is indeed leaving.  Her Italian will no doubt improve, her taste for cheeses become more refined, and her intolerance for bad food (already low) will be even more pronounced.  She will return as lovely as when she left, only with better clothing.

In the meantime, I have about 10 weeks to get Daddy/Daughter stuff locked in.  We already have a few dates for cheese tastings around the southern part of the state, but that seems hardly enough.  However, I console myself with the facts that we spent a lot of great time together over the past 23 years.

Respectfully submitted,

Canoelover