They are the men that hold the key to the mysteries of why now and why not then.
It’s a delicate dance that link the hearts of men and women.
The starter always initiates the firsts of everything or the last of what could’ve been the beginning of something meaningful and beautiful.
Lovely in the way that security finds you when the hands that hold yours are big enough in the same fashion that his hug devours you.
The presence of him in the life you once led happens to be the formative right to the future you will lead with him.
Or the quiet power of your singledom, where you continue to rely on the one who continues to endow you with the gifts of assurance and reassurance.
There are variations to this dynamic that often times fails to measure up to expectations and this causes layers of disappointment and grief that are never relieved.
Through death or through negligence — the daughters without fathers never comprehend the damage until the reminder arrives with warning and fan fare.
The daughters with fathers who aren’t really there even though they are touchable — also greet the the season with mired caution.
The dance of our lives never ends even when the jukebox withers to silence.
The bass controls the rhythm of the girl in the blue dress who wants the man who made her to claim his best work yet for all to admire and approve.
That’s what fathers mean to daughters.