Home
Home.
Home again.
I like to be here when I can.
When I come home cold and tired,
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire.
Pink Floyd

It's early morning. The coffee machine is chunkin' away. Chester's been given his morning treat and is out on the porch surveying his domain. A red morning sun is poking its nose over the rise across the bay, refracting into thousands of prisms like shattered red-stained glass over the water. On the monitor, I can hear the little booglet stirring in her crib. She's swimming up from sleep, stirring in her cocoon of soft blankies and stuffed animals.

I peek in; her hair is tussled wild and beautiful.

"Daddy!"

I open the window shades. Hell, open the window. The mornings are cool now and the birds are going full tilt.

"Hey Sugar Bear." I turn from the window and walk to the crib. We look at each other. She's smiling. I'm smiling so hard my face hurts.

"Daaaaaaddy." She stretches luxuriously and kicks off her favorite blanket. In the crib are the usual suspects: Mr. Fat Giraffe, Skinny Bunny, Po and Huckleberry Hound. Daddy, with his usual Jonathan Winters mannerisms, has voices for all of them.

Huckleberry Hound used to sing her a song:

Huckleberry Hound, coolest dawg around,
See my ears go floppin', floppin' up and down,
Got all my shots, no rabies
I just sing for the little babies
Cuz I'm Huckleberry, HUC-KLE-BER-RY H O U N D! Yeah!
(The Huckster's got some Elvis in him.)

I'm standing over the crib looking at her looking at me. This has happened before. Sometimes, when we're playing and Papa Bear's gettin' sugar from his little Sugar Bear she'll stop and stare. Looking into my daughter's eyes is like looking into the mirror. On some level I think she must feel the same. We're so obviously related. When I stare into her eyes I get vertigo. It's like an infinity mirror, you and me, me and you. Your Momma's got some sparklin' blue eyes but yours came from Daddy. Your Momma wears contacts but you got Daddy's good vision--I know because you can see the monkeys at the zoo from our special perch on the boardwalk. Working on our orange pieces and watchin the Silly Billy monkeys. Papa Bear and his little Sugar Bear. I'm home again.

"Come and see me." I pick her up out of the crib, smell her hair, get some lovin'. "Did you miss Daddy?"

She nods her head way up and way down, "Yes."

Oh sweetheart--good answer. What do you want? Real estate? Diamonds? Or just a morning story? I'll get it. Please tell me there will never be any other men in your life.

I know, I know. There will be other men in your life, just like I came along and took your Momma away from her Daddy.

But it won't be today.