thirty-four
. . .
Grant
I watchHazel elbow her way through the small crowd of children to get a closer look at the Gemini 11 capsule. It's part of the Humans in Space exhibit, and she seems determined to get there one day, so here we are. I stay a few steps back, giving her the chance to explore and connect with kids her age. Her world is full of possibilities right now, and I hope she never feels any differently.
It's a school holiday, so I took some time away from the studio for some father-daughter bonding. I've been working a lot lately and, admittedly, have been sharing my free time with Sophia, too. I don't think Hazel has noticed. We've been careful.
"Dad, come look. You can see where the astronauts sleep, and there's a picture of his family!"
Hazel grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the exhibit. Sure enough, there's a photo of what appears to be the astronaut with a woman and two small children.
"Pretty cool, nugget. Looks kind of small in there, though."
"Do you think the astronauts miss their families when they are up in space?"
"I'm sure they do. But I also think they are doing very important work, so sometimes, it can be worth leaving the ones you love for an exciting adventure."
She seems deep in thought as she stares into the glass-covered capsule.
"Yeah. I guess. It's sad when people are alone, though."
Ouch. Where did that come from? Does she feel lonely? I know it's just me and her at the house, but I try to make sure she's involved in activities, and God knows I pay enough for the private school and all the extracurriculars they offer. Maybe she's missing her mom. I make a mental note to send Geneva a text later this evening so she can reach out when she has a free minute this weekend.
"I'm sure it does get lonely, but he has pictures to remind him of what's waiting for him when he gets back home. Plus, I bet they get to bring great books to read!"
She nods but makes her way over to the telescopes so she can peep at some of the planets they have set up to view.
"Do you think you would ever go to space?"
"Hm. It sounds like an exciting adventure, but I think I would have to pass. Too risky for me."
"Yeah, but isn't that the whole point? You could discover something amazing that would change your whole world!"
She's looking up at me, waiting for my response. This kid is so incredibly smart and insightful. Some days, I have no idea if I'm doing anything right, but it's moments like thiswhen I feel like I'm raising an incredible human and maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, nugget."
"I am. It's like when we are at school and my friend Hannah gets too scared to slide down the big slide. I have to hold her hand, and then, when we get to the bottom, she's always laughing, and she's not scared anymore."
"You're a smart and good friend."
"I know."
I muffle the laugh that wants to escape because I never want to steal that confidence away from her and I hope she never loses it. I watch in awe as she navigates between exhibits, as if she's been here a million times when, in fact, it's only been a handful. She has no fear, and at the same time, she is completely vulnerable. I miss the pure, open honesty I had as a child, and I wonder at what point it disappears. At what point do we shut off a part of ourselves we were so happy to let everyone see?
I know a lot of my walls come from my father passing away unexpectedly. The grief is still harsh, even though it's been close to twenty-five years now. Some nights, just the thought of it sends me into a panic that I might die before Hazel grows up.
I shake my head. I can't go down that rabbit hole here. In fact, it's a dark place I try to avoid at all costs, and I'm not sure why I've even allowed myself to go there today.
We swing by the gift shop, and I'm easily suckered into buying her a space station Lego set. I rationalize that it's an educational toy, so I'm not spoiling her. Yeah, I know. You try to say no to this kid.
We walk out into the warm evening air and head over to the parking garage while Hazel swings my arm back and forth as we walk hand in hand.
"Did you have a good time?" I ask her. I can tell she did, but I love hearing her talk about the things she loves. I hope I never get tired of learning all there is to know about this incredible little human.
"I did. I can't wait to tell Sophia all about it."
