As 8am finally rolled around, I started tapping on Eron's
bedroom door. I had warned her that
while I was in town, she should not expect to sleep 'til noon. Yes, she's a typical teenager in that
way. Actually she's fairly typical in
several other ways too. Her social
calendar for one thing. It is always overflowing. She's a very intelligent, beautiful
girl. I'm not saying this as a father,
but as an honest impartial person. God
blessed me with three incredible daughters, and as I have also described Kellie
and Ashley in similar detail in another one of my stories…
Eron is one of those
people who other people follow. She is a
leader. And she does it (usually) in a
way that is not forceful at all. As both
her parents are, she is very self-confidant.
She will succeed at whatever she chooses to do with her life… there is
no doubt about that. She was raised as
an only child, so I'm sure that has something to do with her comfort level when
she's around adults, but she also seems to have the ability to get along with
people of all ages, and in all situations.
She is intuitive and creative.
Eron is one of the most physically beautiful people on this planet, but
she is even more beautiful on the inside.
At 10am, after tapping on her door every 30 minutes for the
previous two hours, I finally opened the door, and walked to her bedside. "Paaallleeeaase honey, let's get started
with our day, we've been burning daylight for more than 4 hours already."
She has always been one of those who wakes up slowly, and if
not approached carefully, might try to bite your head off if you push her too
fast at the beginning of her day. That's
why I had warned her before my arrival, and had given her two hours of tapping
notice. I was planning on spending three
days with her and I did not want to start my first day with her with anything
but smiles.
After my (very cute and adorable) whining-plead for her to get up, she smiled and opened her
eyes. "Ok Dad, I'll get
up." She made us the best fruit
smoothie I've ever had, and then we got on Honey to run some errands.
She couldn't remember the name of the tattoo parlor she
wanted to go back to, for the guy to do some touching up on the black widow
spider she had inked on her left breast.
It needed a 'little more red-ish orange color' in its legs. Yes, my little angel-of-a-daughter has a wild
side too. As a father… I worry a little,
but when I am able to separate myself from the position of parent, to one of an
impartial bystander… I am ok with her wild side. I put it like this: "In the grand scheme of things, she is
at least as well adjusted and mature as I am". Not really a glowing recommendation, I am
aware, but I am very confidant in all of my daughters that they have good heads
on their shoulders, and will not do anything detrimental to their or anyone
else's well being. They haven't yet… I
sure hope I'm not jinxing them by putting this in print.
As we were getting ready to walk into the tattoo parlor, I
noticed what looked like the handle of a pistol sticking out from the pants of
a guy walking in just ahead of us. I
stopped, turned, and whispered to Eron, "Look, that guy has a
gun." She smiled and said,
"Yes dad, it's legal to carry
here." "Wow," I
said, "We really are in the wild
wild west, aren't we?" "Yes
dad, and paaallleeease don't make a big deal out of it, ok?" Then I said, "Jeesh Eron, you'd think
that you have a reason to feel that I might try to embarrass you or
something," with a mischievous grin on my face.
Her eyes rolled back into her head like I'd seen them roll
so many times before. If I had a nickel
for every time I've heard her say, "Ooohh da-aaad," I would have a
very big pocket full of nickels. I feel
sorry for people around me sometimes. I
have a tendency to be overly dramatic and corny on occasions. I have even been called a Drama King once or twice. I'm ok
with being corny… as long as it puts a smile on someone's face… then I'm happy.
Sure enough (not wanting to let Eron down), I went straight
up to the guy with the gun. He was
heavily tatted, about 6' 2" and a very muscular 240 pounds. He turned out to be a very nice, well-spoken
gentleman, and even though I heard Eron make a heavy sigh as I walked up to
him, it wasn't too long before she came up and introduced herself to him. Neither of us is very shy.
The artist that
she wanted to do her touch up wouldn't be in until that evening, so we left and
had a burger at a malt shop in
downtown Old Glendale. It was one of
(I'm guessing) 50 thousand burger joints in this Country with the 50's
theme. James Dean… Marilyn Monroe…
Humphrey Bogart… you get the picture. We sat outside on the sidewalk and she
nibbled on a grilled cheese sandwich, while I ate one of the best burgers I've
ever had.
Eron and I have always
gotten along well. She is definitely
'her father's daughter.' Even though
she's spent the last five years almost exclusively with her mom, she is still
maintaining her open-mindedness and ability to allow other people to express
their opinions without thinking that they are wrong, just because she may not
agree with them. I am so happy that she
has some of my personality traits… but unhappy that she has other similar
characteristics which are not quite as… pause… let's say, 'useful.'
Eron's mom is a good
person, and a fantastic mom, but some of the differences we have are
dramatic. 'Problem solving techniques,'
when it comes to dealing with the curves that life throws at us once in awhile,
is a good example of one of them.
Sometimes Eron and I
go quite a while without saying anything at all to each other and sometimes we
have to raise our hands, to get the other person to stop and take a
breath. We laugh together, we cry
together, and most of all, we seem to understand each other at a very deep
level. I love being around her. I love you Eron.
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