As a father, Blaire would like to think he'd seen it all. His daughter would come home with, doing, or wearing the strangest things and today was no exception. The bus always stopped right in front of his house so every day he'd either wait outside for her or in the kitchen by the window that overlooked their yard so he could watch her come up the walkway safely. He'd barely noticed it against the shades of white and grey the rest of the world was right now but his daughter was definitely holding up a long strip of paper over her head so that it blew backwards like a strange flag in the breeze. Blaire squinted, his blue eyes narrowing in the process, to see if he could find any identifying markers on the paper but there was nothing. Well, there might be something but his eyes had always been sensitive to light and with everything glowing white out there it was hard to see anything at all. It'd just be a surprise he supposed.
He smiled at the sight of her with her dark brown curls a mess after having taken off her hat only to put it back on both times without really caring what state it ended up in once it was on her head. She'd gotten that from her mother, both the carefree spirit and the dark brown curls. In fact, the only thing of his he saw when he looked at her was the eyes. She had the same blue eyes as his. It was something small, completely hidden when she slept but it was the first thing he'd seen when she was born and it was how he'd known then that she was his. He'd love her and protect her for the rest of their lives.
His wife, Helen was her name, had taken a look at the baby but just one before demanding it be taken from her. The doctors called it postpartum depression and they said with help she'd be fine. In the end, however, she hadn't been able to be fine and she'd left. There was something wrong with her, she'd said. When she looked at their baby girl she could see the love that Blaire held in his own blue eyes but in her own brown ones she knew there would be nothing to see because that's what she felt; nothing. It was almost impossible to believe that it was her child at all and not a stranger living in their home.
That was years ago, six actually. Blaire was now twenty four and his ex wife would have turned twenty six last month if she'd still been here. She still was twenty six, Blaire supposed, but it was hard to think of it that way when he hadn't seen her in a lifetime; their child's lifetime that is.
The door burst open and Blaire was immediately drawn from his thoughts back to the real world. "Dad!" He heard her cry from the entry way,"Dad! Dadda!" Dadda. It was something she called him when she was really excited about something, almost like she'd wanted to say the word 'dad' twice but she'd been so ahead of herself that the words had blended into a new one.
Blaire grinned, that word always made him smile, and rushed over to see what the big deal was. "What is it, Grace?" he asked, laughing lightly when he saw her flinging her coat onto the floor.
"I made you a list," she explained, shoving the paper out to him so that he could now see her thin, tiny handwriting. That was another thing that she got from him, he supposed. On it, he was able to see things like 'good grades in school' and 'always helped Miss Rose across the street' and so on. He wanted to keep smiling for her but he knew immediately what this was; another plea to go see Santa.
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