Dad Entry #206

Megan has a Barbie Fairytopia butterfly pillow. It is pink and purple with sequins and that fine plastic, net-like stuff I believe is called tulle, which photos indicate was once ubiquitous in wedding ensembles, in splendid folds, fluffs, trains, and veils, and, regrettably, in fashion-courageous headpieces and wrist corsages. (Wait, why am I talking about wedding dresses? I have very few rules for 'aboutmnm' but I'm sure this is one of them.) Megan's butterfly pillow is a sleeping companion, worn and torn and deeply loved. It's been in her life for years, kind of like me, and I wonder: What will happen when this cherished pillow is no longer needed? 'Butterfly Pillow,' once taut, smooth, and bright, is now lumpy, faded, and acutely showing its age. Megan might look at it soon with pity and a kind of condescending amusement. It doesn't look as sharp as it used to. It doesn't look as smart as it used to. Maybe it was never very smart to begin with. I hope I'm not like Butterfly Pillow :) If Megan always needs me, that would be wonderful, because I'll always need her, as my daughter, my friend, and the impossibly cute thing I am overwhelmingly, eternally grateful for. I frequently say so to God. Thank you for Megan. I saw her pulled from the womb, and I've seen her through everything since. I have plenty to share with her – if I don't annoyingly overshare – although I've learned that life is a lot about getting on with it as an individual, and everyone else must do the same, even when surrounded by amazing love and support. We are in it together, and we are in it alone. Oxymoronic, sure, but how else can it be said? One thing I know for certain: I love my daughter so much I will gladly relive some of this in a granddaughter someday, or maybe ten. I think I'm breaking the rules again.