On belonging

She wore a sleeveless blue and white shift —a Florence Eiseman seersucker—with pockets, a crisp, rounded white collar, and bright flowers stitched carefully.

Her skin glowed the warmth of a day on the beach. She felt pretty. Glowing.

His.

She wanted the whole world to know, he was her dad.

They waited for a table and a reservation he had probably never made. You see, he moved through the world differently than most. Relying less on calendars and calls than on compadres. Usually patients whom he’d treated, a family member he stitched up, someone whose life he saved, a friend he’d operated on. This is how he navigated his world—surgically opening a door in ways a reservation never could. Doubtful the hostess knew they were coming. And somehow, they’d soon have not only dinner, but also a free dessert.

It’s how he rolled.

Beneath the evening sky and the Harbour Town Lighthouse, she stood beside him. A little girl to his adult stature. On his island. Her perfectly barretted light brown hair and young face turned toward his sturdy frame. His silver hair and warm presence.

Isn’t it remarkable how certain moments transcend time? Decades later, this feeling remains —not where they were or what they ate, but how she felt.

She wanted everyone who walked to know she was his.

She didn’t have the language to explain longing. Belonging. She couldn’t analyze relationships or understand complicated adult decisions. She knew what felt safe, what felt right, and what she hoped would last.

She believes her parents’ divorce had left her few scars. She was young enough, naive enough, protected enough, to have mostly escaped its wounds. How lucky to not know reality. To not know what she didn’t know. What she missed. Her youth and life was blessed by a mother whose methods made her not feel the void. Her childhood was rich despite its debts.

Her “normal” happened from whatever life just placed in front of her.

Next to that lighthouse, she didn’t wonder what was missing. She knew what she had. She was just a little girl in a darling dress beaming beside her daddy, knowing with quiet certainty…

…she belonged.