There were many things that hit me during my last evening at Disney World that I really wanted to blog about. Many things about Disney and the people here, many more things about myself and the thoughts and ponderences that went through my heart and mind most of the day.
All of it went away as I stood at the front desk of our hotel, helping my folks make plans to get picked up at five in the morning (three, Colorado time…).
All week long my family has talked and dreamed of being able to bring Gavin here one day. All week long, we have seen babies screaming and crying, parents yelling, a child left unattended in a stroller while its family went on a ride (!), parents yanking their child by the arm rushing this way and that, lots of threatening and frustration.
In that last few minutes, I look over from the counter, and over in the corner, in a little area the resort had set up with tiny antique chairs and an old fashioned tv, sat a rather adorable (youngish—mid-thirties, early-forties) father and his seven (or so) year old daughter. She was snuggled up close to him, his arm drapped around her shoulders as she rested her head on his chest—occasionally laughing at an old Mickey, Donald, and Goofy cartoon as they tried to put out a fire. They sat that way for nearly ten minutes. Lost in their own world, just the two of them. None of it for show. None of it uncomfortable. Just a father and his daughter. Just a daughter with the man she so clearly adores and sees as her hero.
My eyes filled with tears then. They do now.
For the life this girl has. For the life the man has. For the honor of getting to witness it.
For the hope my arm will be draped around my daughter/son one day, doing all I can do to be their hero.