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BIG POPPY | barry, my dad, joke-teller, picture-hanger, tech junkie, THE BEST. 

SWEETHEART!  you know on that show, inside the actor’s studio, when james lipton asks the same 10 questions at the end of each interview? question #5 is “what sound do you love?” and for me, the answer would be, my dad saying, SWEETHEART! it’s his standard greeting when i call or he calls, and after 37 years of this, it feels like a blanket of home and comfort and security each and every time. it’s full of love and pride and he lingers on the “heeaart” part a bit, and i want to bottle up that voice and that one little word and carry it with me forever.

we lived with my dad for most of my childhood, which back in the 80’s was a complete rarity. this man did carpool and ponytails and birthday parties. he did bedtime and nightmares and science fair projects. he celebrated good grades (we got $1 per A, which i never hesitate to tell him was the biggest rip off EVER) and took me to my very first broadway show (“a chorus line”). because of barry i love travel, new york, singing out loud to the les miserables soundtrack and grape nuts. also because of barry i am incapable of hanging a picture, as he was always on call to do this for me. he is measure twice, cut once and it’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness. i love this guy.

it wasn’t perfect, always. but we did our best and he did his best, and really, isn’t that all we can do? and his best was beyond. his best helped make me confident, capable, with high expectations of myself. his best helped me love big and loud, because he loves big and loud. SWEETHEART!

poppy. i’m sending you the biggest hug ever, and wishing you the best birthday and father’s day. i wish i was there. thank you for being you, for making me laugh, for laughing at my jokes, and for always believing in my crazy dreams. for supporting new york and germany, even when you wanted to say STAY and DON’T GO. for loving the girls as much as you do, and for loving me and wen. thank you for tuna trains and summers in lake tahoe and for every “i love you” that built me up and made me believe i deserve it. 

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she ran in. ponytail bouncing, the curve of her belly so round and delicious in that hot pink leotard. no fear. well, maybe a little. mommy, come with me, she said, torn between staying on my lap and joining the others at the barre. the floor length mirror lured her over, and she twirled, and twirled, and smiled.

and i smiled. with little tears in my eyes, i watched her bounce and bend and stand high on those tip toes, trying to keep those arms rounded and those toes pointed. the fear was gone and she was lost in the moment. we giggled as she galloped across the room, and i could tell that she thought she was floating, flying. her smile was so big her cheeks almost exploded. and my heart … it exploded a bit too.

blissfully unaware, she was, of any i can’t or what will they think? or they’re better than me. she was innocent, beautiful, brave. oh, how i want her to hold onto that. to show up to that first ballet class, sit at that table in the lunch room, raise her hand to answer that question. and not be hindered by the voices around her, but instead listen to that whisper in her heart that says, i am flying. i can do this. i am enough. 

into a circle! and the girls all grabbed hands. except for the little ballerina to her right. she tried to hold her hand once, twice and again. after 3 attempts with no response, she simply shrugged and put that empty hand on her hip as if to say, no worries! your loss. and i was thinking, yes! go bitty! and then i suddenly wondered if my empty hand would still be as confident and carefree. i like to think so, hope so.

she’s teaching me a lot, my little bitty. to try without fear, to celebrate myself, to not let the noise around me drown out my own belief in myself. to run into the room, ponytail flying, and stand on tip toes, arms stretched high, reaching …

 

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