Tonight, while cuddled next to me on the couch to watch a family movie, our little gal absent-mindedly held my hand, moving her fingers softly around mine. I noticed it, as I keep noticing all the small things she does lately. And I thought to myself, "I love being her everything."
In 1910, G.K. Chesterton said, "To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labours, and holidays; to be Whitely within a certain area, providing toys, boots, cakes and books; to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it.
How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe?
How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone and narrow to be everything to someone?
No, a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute."
I think I've quoted that before, but it's the "everything to someone" part that came to me tonight. You see, since I have the perspective of having two teenagers, I know there will come a day – a day that will arrive too soon – when our little gal will no longer subconsciously hold my hand. She'll be aware of our contact, and she'll pull away a bit. Sure, we'll have better – I mean, deeper – conversations, and there will be a comraderie that I cannot know with her now, but I will no longer be her everything.
Today, I love being her everything.