September 15, 1999
DOWN HOME: She'll still
hold my hand if nobody else is looking
___Lindsay and I crossed a busy street, just a few steps behind Joanna and Molly.
___We were visiting a strange--very strange --town during the long Labor Day weekend, and the traffic was vicious, to be as charitable as possible.
___So, naturally, my daddy-protector genes kicked in.
___"Do you mind if I hold your hand?" I asked my almost-16-year-old daughter, reaching out toward her.
___"Well, no," she replied. "None of my friends are here to see you."
MARV KNOX
Editor
___I'm not sure what percentage of her reply was serious and how much was a mischievous tease.
___My head jerked in response, and for just a moment I forgot about the taxi driver hoping to mow us down in the intersection.
___She grinned and laughed. But the kid's pretty quick. Her little smile and chuckle may just've been a gracious gesture, designed at the last minute to soften the sting of her matter-of-fact declaration of independence.
___That's pretty much what parenting's all about--sometimes prodding, other times reigning in, always guiding, coaxing and praying for that steady, irresistible urge toward independence.
___And that's something they don't tell you when you sign on to parenthood. Nobody has the heart.
___Not so long ago, or so it seems, I was the center of two little girls' universe. I get nostalgic thinking about those halcyon days when four pigtails bobbed across the room to the garage door every afternoon when I walked in from work. "Daddy's home!" was the sweetest song I've ever heard.
___Now, I usually--when they're downstairs and not caught up in more important ventures, like reading a magazine or doing homework--get a "hullo" when I get home from work.
___It doesn't really bother me. (OK, maybe it does.) I know they love me, but I realize their perspective of life has changed: Their world has gotten way, way bigger, and I'm still the same size.
___You know how you get these snapshot memories of little events? You don't know why you remember them, but you never forget.
___About nine or 10 years ago, Lindsay and I went to the store for milk. As we walked across the parking lot, she stuck her hand in mine and started skipping and humming. I didn't need to skip, because my feet couldn't touch the ground.
___Now, she doesn't mind holding my hand if her friends aren't looking. And that's all right. She and Molly couldn't stay 6 forever, and I'd be distraught if they did.
___I don't know about you, but the way I handle this parenthood business is to realize that while I can't hold their hands, they're safe in the wide, welcoming hands of their heavenly Father.
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