My daughter is a present

Oh, this daughter of mine, the best present I ever had. Came from the big guy, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You see, the thing is, I don’t wait to open presents well. The anticipation is never sweet. I want to see the unknowable now, to touch, to know what piece of me is reflected in the givers eyes. But this child, this sweet little package, is wrapped too well for me to peek early. I must wait to know her as she can know herself. There are glimpses into who she is, little pokes into her glittering wrapping Oh yes, child, you glitter, but no sight into the box. I will never be able to see into the box. Her soul is unto herself, and I see only in glimpses of raw upsurges in family life. I have a lifetime ahead of me seeing bits and corners of glittering paper, and not what is inside.

And in the light of day, only she gets to open the package to what is the best present of all, herself.