Blessed

My precious daughter is fifteen and a half months old. I did not predict how much I would love my wife in her, or her in my wife. I did not predict how much I would crave being around her. I did not predict how much she would dance when I played guitar. Nor did I predict how proud I would be of her. I did not predict any of the following: how affectionate she would be, how generous; how big a laugh she would have, and how often she would laugh; how much she would love wearing specific items of clothing, especially shoes. I did not predict very much about her, except that I would love her, and I do. I will miss writing these daily installments and will most likely read them from time to time, perhaps with her. We have had a blessed first year as a family; I have had a blessed first year as a father. Indeed, I can think of no greater blessing on earth.