Sweet Sixteen

My eldest child, Alexis, turned sixteen today. It's so odd to think of her that way, since I sometimes still think of her as the little six year-old girl I met in person the day before I asked her mother to marry me. She's grown quite a bit since then. It began with me being so scared of her that I was treating her with kid gloves--except, of course, for the time she got a scrape on her knee and I brought out a hacksaw and asked her if I could cut it off for her and make her feel better. (I swear it was funny at the time, and I wouldn't have actually done it, of course. Really.) I can't put into words...

Well, maybe I can. I gave her a gift today. It was supposed to be a song--I have a melody line and everything, but I don't have the instrumental skill to add music to it--but it works as a poem. It's only words, but it's a start. And I like to think she already knew all this, but it's good to say these things anyway. So...yeah, here it is.

The Chance to Call You Mine

 When I met your mom, I knew she had a daughter

And it scared me 'cause I didn't know what kind of dad I'd be.

But I loved her, and I knew you came together

As a package deal—a two-for-one—where one plus one makes three.

Before I asked her hand in marriage, first I asked for your permission.

Did you know how much depended on your single word that day?

But your tears of joy were for us all as we became a family—

A mom and dad and daughter. It was meant to be that way.

And I don't know how a father couldn't want you,

But I'm glad I've had the chance to call you mine.

And through the years, as you've become a woman,

I see the love between us as a sign

That God can make a family

From broken hearts and dreams.

His will is always stronger

Than our human plots and schemes.

It might not be how we would plan,

Yet still it's God's design.

So although you're not my child by blood

I'm proud to call you mine.

It may not be the way I planned,

Yet still it's His design.

So I thank God for the chance He gave—

The chance to call you mine.

© 2013, Alan Kornacki, Jr.