Finn
3rd of July
She runs her forearm across her brow wiping away the sweat that’s quickly accumulating under the hot summer sun.
I keep the blinds opened just enough so I can see her but she can’t see me, not that she’d turn and look back across the street. She’s fully engrossed in her work.
I’m so proud of her. A day before her eighteenth birthday and she’d saved up seven thousand dollars just from her high school job. She had turned her love of gardening into a small landscaping business that’s undisputedly the best in town.
Seven thousand dollars is a lot of money for a teenager, and tomorrow on her eighteenth birthday she’ll be free to do with it as she pleases.
Technically she could do whatever she wants with it today. I may be her guardian but I trust her and her decisions completely.
What I don’t trust is myself.
I’ve thought of ways to try and convince her to stay, but deep down I know it’s contradictory to the values I’ve instilled in her.
Hard work. Self reliance. Setting out on her own and making this world her oyster.
She knows she’s got my complete support, but I know that she’s been looking forward to her eighteenth birthday for years.
It signifies her becoming an adult, at least in the eyes of the law.
But in my opinion she became an adult long ago. The way she carries herself. The way she never makes excuses for anything. The way she’s devoted to her studies and her small yet growing business.
But her business isn’t the only thing growing these days.
And that’s exactly what concerns me most.
She’d always just been like a daughter to me. That and nothing more. Sure the court refers to our relationship as one of a guardian and ward, but I never liked those terms much. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. She’s my daughter and I’m her father.
And I’ve watched her grow up like any proud papa would these last thirteen years since we’ve been together.
But this last year there’s just been something about her growth that I can’t pretend not to notice no matter how hard I try. The way she fills out her tops. The way her hips are just a bit bigger. The way the back of her jeans have a little more curve than before. If anyone knows about late bloomers it’s the gorgeous gardener across the street who’s making Mrs. Smith’s rose garden look like the toast of the town right now. And she’s the same girl I shared French toast with this morning…something many fathers and their daughters do every morning I’m sure.
But no matter how much I tell myself I’m her father, technically I’m not. And that small technicality is what’s making me question everything right now.
Ev-ery-thing.
These last few weeks I feel like I’ve gone from the dad who taught her how to drive a car to the guy who has to pump his own breaks when it comes to the thoughts he’s been having about the young woman who he shares a home with.
And it would be nothing more than four walls and a roof without her. She makes it a home. It’s her eye, and her touch, that’s led this place from being nothing more than a glorified man cave to an actual home a place with art on the walls, small visual touches that lift my mood, and of course everything being so clean.
And it’s not just her breaking her back to keep the place clean and decorated. Not that at all. She’s shown me how colors and shapes compliment and contrast one another and I’m much better at keeping my place looking presentable and like a human being who with two working eyes lives here.
I tell myself I’ve taught her a lot of things, but in reality she’s taught me just as much if not more. Funny how that works sometimes.
But what’s not going to work at all is if she packs up and leaves tomorrow morning like she’s been planning on for years.
She’s certainly ready, but the reality is I’m not.
By day I’m a firefighter afraid of nothing and no-one, but tomorrow I’m afraid I’m going to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.
And I’m torn. I’ve always encouraged her to spread her wings and fly, but there’s no saying that she needs to change her nest to do so.
She can still live here with me. I can still be her anchor, her rock, as she always tells me I am. That doesn’t have to change one bit.
But it’s up to her. I have to know my role and let her do what she needs to do, no matter how difficult tomorrow becomes for me.
On the other hand I need to do what I need to do, and that’s tip the scales in my favor. The scales that she’ll weigh when it’s time to make the decision that could change everything.
And I’m determined to let her know I want her here with me but not because I’m her guardian.
Because I want her for my own…forever.