the parish: I think this means I'm old, but blessed.

My daughter turned 25 today. I'm pretty sure that makes me old, no matter how you figure oldness. The hot hairdresser, step-grandma wife and I were invited to the dinner party to celebrate in Bricktown. (We were also invited to the club afterward to dance, but I declined. A man needs to know his limitations, and dancing, in the spirit or the flesh, is not my gift.) After bungling fatherhood at a young age, I was never sure where my relationship with Lindsay would go, but I'm happy to say she's a forgiving, gracious woman who has extended me a second and third and fourth chance. It's not often that I feel so schmaltzy, but tonight, seeing how beautiful she is, seeing her surrounded by good friends, having a drink with a grown woman who is my daughter, and participating in the celebrative and communal aspects of her life made me realize that I am blessed. Yes, I'm old, but if this is what old looks like and feels like, then I welcome it. I love you, Lindsay. You have made me proud and foolish, and you've done it in spite of me.