...Billy just has a way
with words, and this is a short story he wrote...i see
a lot of good in this piece...thought you would too....so enJOY your read, and
you can go to the "short stories" section of his
website and read some more...
...here`s the link...
for a soon to be
You have already begun one of life's most incredible adventures.It began as an act of greatest love and will never really
end. Soon...very soon...you will be holding a package full of life, a creature of spirit entrusted to you that you may help
her be all that she can be. Soon...very soon...you will hold your firstborn. You will stand...or perhaps teeter...in the delivery
room watching the drama unfold as your beloved grimaces, screams and cries. You will feel excited and helpless and eager and
frightened. You will watch as the love of your life treads the fine line between life and death. You will see her face grimace
and her body writhe in agony until there is one last gasp, one last moan followed by the sound of your daughter's first cry.
You will look into the face of your beloved and there where agony was etched just a moment ago you will see incomparable,
unfathomable joy. Tears shed in pain will be washed away by tears of ecstasy as the babe wrapped in a pink blanket will be
laid at her breast. You will move closer to her side and look down into her face, and then fasten your gaze on your child.
She will have her mother's eyes and your smile and you will touch a hand so tiny, so tender, and so perfect and every vestige
of machismo, every facade of strength will disappear in a flood of tears and you will wonder why you are worthy of such a
gift. For the first six weeks you will bask in the feeling that you have brought into the world the most wonderful child ever
because her stuff really won't stink. And then one day you will open a diaper and wonder what in the world your daughter ate
that could possibly smell like that. She will wake you with her cries in the middle of the night and you will smile, perhaps
chuckle, rejoicing that your beloved chose to breast feed. Then you will hear her sleepy voice say, "Honey, would you go get
that little bottle out of the fridge?" and you will curse the person who invented the breast pump, knowing it had to be a
woman. By the age of two your daughter will have helped you to understand why some animals eat their young. Yet in the worst
of times, in the most frustrating, exasperating moments, when you have pulled your hair until you have none left, remember
your life. Think back to the earliest point in your history that you can remember. Recall your worst day and remember...there
was a mother, an aunt, a sister, a babysitter who put her hands on your shoulders, looked you in the eye and said, "Baby...some
day I hope you have one just like you!" You will chase monsters from beneath beds and rock the flu away and bandage wounds
and sing lullabies. Cherish those moments. They fly away with the speed of light. Never miss an opportunity to say "I love
you", and if the situation warrants never hesitate to say "I'm sorry." Give her her dreams. Oh! Don’t bankrupt your-
self to supply her with every want. Just give her, her dreams. If you look at her and see a ballerina but she looks into the
mirror and sees a dentist give her, her dream. If you watch her in the back yard and see a lawyer but she looks into the mirror
and sees a housewife give her, her dream. Her life is yours to nurture but it is hers to live. Let her live. And cherish the
moments. Too soon you will hear a minister ask, "Who gives this woman to be married?" and a weak, cracking voice will come
out of your mouth and say, "I do." You will look at the man beside her and swear for a moment that you see horns beneath that
haircut that you don't really like anyway and wonder what she sees in him, knowing he isn't nearly good enough for your daughter.
The vows will be taken and the assembly will rush to the reception. It will be time for you to dance with the bride and you,
hand trembling, knees quivering; will escort your daughter onto the dance floor. Someone will have searched through their
old CD collection or downloaded from some- where or used the technology of the time to find a copy of "Butterfly Kisses" and
as it plays every vestige of machismo, every facade of strength will wash away in a flood of tears and you will find yourself
burying your face in her hair. You will remember every time you ever punished her wrongly, every time you spoke to her in
anger, every time you failed and you will wonder how she could have ever loved you. And she will remember the monsters that
Daddy chased from beneath her bed and the times he rocked her flu away and the wounds he bandaged and for all the off-key
lullabies he sang and thank her God that she has a daddy like you. Another day someone will open a door and say "You can come
in now" and you will enter and look into the face of your daughter, eyes glistening with joy where pain used to be as she
holds a package full of life, a creature of spirit. She will have her grandmother's eyes and your smile and you will touch
a hand so tiny, so tender, so perfect. And you will smile and think, "Maybe...just maybe...I didn't do so bad after all."