The Hug

My daughter tolerates me. Her mother, on the other hand, she adores. I’m reminded of this with every major event of our day. “I want Mommy to do it” follows nearly every request I make whether it’s a plea to brush teeth, a call to hold my hand in a parking lot, or an attempt to tuck her in at night. Several nights ago my little four year-old actually said, “you don’t understand me!”

She is, however, the light of my life. I see in her a verve that I only wish I could claim. Her spirit, while exasperating, is irrepressible and I’d never try to change her or soften her edges to protect my fragile ego. Instead I follow her throughout the day watching her devour life. Every now and again I capture a moment that melts me.

This photo was taken on a cool day near a local water fountain. We had all been running about and were enjoying the weather and the cool spray of the water. I took a series of shots of my daughter giving my wife sloppy wet mouth kisses and thought I had a few gems. Just as the moment was ending and I was about to move on, however, my girl gripped my wife tightly and gave her the most genuine hug I’ve ever seen. It was pure contentment.

Someday I’m going to get me one of those hugs.