31 Days | #1: The One Where I’m a 2-year-old with a Splinter

the-one-where-im-a-2-year-oldwith-a-splinter

My finger is pink and throbbing and my throat trembles with a sob. The memory is flooded by the yellow glow of the lamp by the couch. Daddy sits and draws me to him. Even sitting, his knees are still as high as my chest.

“Ok, let me take a look, sweetie.”

I remember his big, warm hands tilting my finger for examination. So gentle, so safe.

“You have a little splinter–see that? I’m gonna get it out for ya.”

He must have explained. He always explained. Patient, child-size words for my reassurance were always in abundance. My Daddy has a teacher’s heart.

The next thing I remember is the blanket over my head, a sheltering shadow of fibers glowing in the lamplight while the warm hands tenderly coaxed the painful spot.

The edge of the blanket hung below the huge knees. My finger and its splinter were out there, in the brightness. All I could see were the shoes below and the yellow light pressing pinkly through the weave of the blanket while my wound was probed.

I didn’t need to see it; I needed only to stand still and open my hand so Daddy could fix me.

This week, I was shifting loads of laundry from one machine to the next when God pulled this memory, dripping with intensity and light, from the archives of my memories. Hubby was shocked that I could remember so much at age two! I’m not really sure how I can, but I’m thankful. Since that moment with the laundry, I’ve turned this memory over and over in my mind like a shining penny, relishing it for the truth it deposited in my tiny-girl heart.

She was loved.

She was safe.

Even if her finger hurt, Daddy could be trusted.

 

 

This post originally appeared here in honor of my Daddy’s birthday in 2014, but it was too good not to re-post. 🙂 This is day #1 in a month-long challenge to post daily for the entire month of October. To check out other bloggers doing the same thing, visit www.write31days.com.

 

One thought

  1. Oh, my dear Cherise, I can hear your daddy saying those exact words to you! And that blanket idea is genius! The worst part of getting a splinter out is seeing what is needed to accomplish the deed. It is not the removal, but the anticipation. I’m smiling a huge smile at your astonishment of this memory, because I also get to carry a memory of my wonderful father from when I must have been 2. We have been blessed, and I think God allows us these memories so we can carry the “good parent” torch when it has been passed to us. Thank you, precious mom-to-be.

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