March 1995

Your mom told me about you today. I’ll never forget how she looked and how happy her words made me. I just wanted to let you know that today was the first day you became a part of my life and I’m very excited for the day that I’ll be able to hold you in my arms.


Tears stream down my cheeks, and no matter how quickly I try to brush them away, they’re immediately replaced by new ones. My dad wrote this book to me. He didn’t even know me, but he wrote these letters to me because he wanted to let me know how much he loved me.

I read through more of them, but one in particular catches my attention and makes me smile through the tears. By my quick calculation, my mom would have been just about half way through her pregnancy at this point.


May 15, 1995

I felt you kick today. It was kind of weird and creepy, but it was also the most exciting experience of my life to date. Your mom and I were just watching a movie in bed. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her stomach. It wasn’t at all what expected – a small bubble of movement at best. But, from that one little kick, I caught a glimpse of your tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine, of your little feet poking out of a blanket. Today, you felt real to me and I just knew I had to share that with you.


The next letter that I stop at has sonogram picture taped to the top. It’s a profile shot and I trace over the curve of my tiny nose.


June 1995

We found out that you’re a girl today. A girl. Your mom started crying right away. I was … well, I was just scared. I want to protect you from everything. From scratched knees, to failed tests, to broken hearts. But what if I fail? What if you get hurt because I couldn’t do my job? I just hope you know that no matter how many times we fight over curfew or sleepovers or whatever things dads and daughters fight about, just know that I’m fighting with you because I love you.


That last entry makes me laugh through the tears. Now I know where I got that pesky need for perfection from. I flip through the journal and read about how he set up my nursery and helped Linda surprise Mom with a baby shower. It’s weird how I’ve never known him, but through his words, simple strokes on a piece of paper, I feel like he’s right here in the room with me. When I get to the last entry, the tears return. He wrote it the night before he died.


September 29, 1995

Dear Melanie,

Your mom and I have been discussing names lately. So if one day down the line when you’re reading this and your name is Jessica or something like that, just know that I lost the battle. But on some off chance that your mom decides in my favor, I hope that I’ve addressed this to the right person.

Since you’re due to arrive any day now, I thought I would make this a longer entry. There are a few things I want to say and I feel like if I can get these simple lessons on paper, you’ll be able to come back to them when you need them, when I might not be there to tell them to you. I’m a man of numbers and figures, lines and buildings so I apologize ahead of time for not being too poetic with all of this.

1. Be kind. A warm smile with kind words will go further than any ounce of belittling ever will. The world might not always be nice to you, but you’ll find beauty in the world when you are kind to it.

2. Be patient. Anything worth doing in your life will take time. So be patient, but always persevere. When you get knocked down, and you will because it’s an inevitable truth in life, get right back up and fight twice as hard for whatever it is that you’re working toward.

3. Have fun. You’ve got your whole life to worry about bills and mortgages and all that grownup stuff. Never forget to laugh and enjoy the simple pleasures in your life. You never know when they’ll be gone.

4. Love with everything you’ve got. I never knew love until I knew your mother. And then when she told me about you, I learned what true love really means. So when you find someone you love, don’t hold back.

And remember that, if all of these pieces of advice fail you, your mom and I love you more than anyone ever could. You’re the stars in our sky and the song in our hearts … Don’t laugh. I said I was no good at the poetry stuff.

I can’t wait to meet you, baby girl (who I not-so-secretly hope to be named Melanie).

Love,

Dad


After closing the notebook, I clutch it to my chest tightly and whisper through the sobs, “I love you too, Dad.”

14

I’ve been a counselor here at Camp Hope for the last two weeks and I love it. No, like seriously love it. I have never been around so much happiness and so many smiles as when I’m with these kids. At the end of the day, I’m covered in dirt and grime, and sometimes glitter depending on the arts and crafts activities, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I’m on sports detail today and we’re playing soccer. It makes me think of Bryan. Actually, ever since I read my dad’s journal, everything reminds me of Bryan. I want to give us another try. I just haven’t figured out how. I haven’t even seen him since we talked a few weeks ago. I drove past his apartment in some futile hope that he would still be living there, but since the building is technically part of Ithaca College’s housing department, I knew he wouldn’t be there. For all I know, he could have moved back home.

“Can I help, Melanie?” Ruthie, a ten year old camper with Downs Syndrome asks as she pulls on my shorts.

“Of course you can. Let’s get this net out onto the field. You take that side.”

“Okay, I got it. Let’s go.” Her enthusiasm has me tripping over my feet as we stumble out of the supplies closet.

When we get out onto the field, I’m swarmed by the group of kids. Then Will, the counselor who I’ve been assigned to work with for the summer, blows the whistle. The kids all line up in the sideline. They’re so eager to please. Everyone is brightly smiling and jumping up and down as they not-so-patiently wait for our instructions.

Playing it up like he’s some kind of drill sergeant, Will clicks his heels together and stands up straight as an arrow. “Okay, Cadets. Here are the rules.” The kids laugh at his imitation. They know him too well to take him seriously. One of the boys at the end of the line gets a serious case of the giggles and Will calls out “Hey you! Stop that laughing now.” The little boy chokes back his laughter and salutes Will. The second Will’s back is turned, the boy starts laughing all over again.

Will winks at me and carries on with his little routine. The kids count off into “odd” and “even” teams and they sprint onto the field. After about ten minutes, we call a time out so that everyone can grab some water. Will walks over to me and hands me a water bottle.

“You’re doing great, Melanie. The kids really like you.” Will’s hazel eyes light up as he compliments me.

“Thanks, Will. I really like it here. I can totally see why you come back year after year.” I take a sip of my water and sit under the shade of the tree.

“Yeah, this place is great.” He sits beside me and dangles his bottle of water between his bent knees. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes as we sip our water. Having worked with him every day for the last two weeks, we’ve built up a decent friendship. The conversation usually flows freely, but as I finish the last of my water, the stretched-out void feels awkward and uncomfortable.

Will chugs down the rest of his water and turns to face me. “So, are you busy tonight? Can I take you out to dinner?”

His question catches me off-guard and I stumble over my words. “I, uh, yeah, I mean, no.” Taking a deep breath, I steady my shaking hands and nervous words. “Sorry, I can’t. My mom and her boyfriend are actually coming in for the weekend. They should be at my place when I get home.” I gulp down a large swig of water. Anything to keep me from having to speak again. I like Will, a lot, but just not like that. I knew that I would be assigned to work with a more experienced counselor for my first summer. But when I found out that I was being paired up with the tall, dark and handsome man with the blinding smile and witty charm, I was more nervous than excited.

Taking my rejection in stride, he stands and holds his hand out to help me up. “Well, then maybe next Friday, huh?”

“Sure. We’ll see,” I say as I brush the grass from my butt.

Just as we’re about to walk back out onto the field where the kids are clamoring to get started again, our boss and camp owner, Holly walks up to us. There’s a girl standing meekly at her side and I recognize her immediately.

“Hey, Melanie, Will. I’d like you to meet our newest camper. This is Emmie. She just registered today.” When she hears my name, Emmie glances up at my face. Recognizing who I am, she runs into my arms and squeezes me tightly.

“Melanie!” She squeals with delight. The power of her hug has us spinning in circles. When Bryan and I were together, I spoke to her on the phone constantly. I think she liked having another girl, besides her mom, to talk to. I’m not surprised that she remembered me, but her recognition warms my heart like the glowing sun.

Pulling away from her, we exchange smiles. A look of confusion passes between Will and Holly before Will asks, “How do you know each other?”