by S. Barron Thompson
                        

My daughter, Ruby Soho (if you’re familiar with the Rancid song),
is nineteen and lives away at college (which, thankfully,
is a 45-minute drive; it’s not like she’s hitting me up for airfare).

2007ish : 
“I think we’ll have done a great job raising our daughter
if she still wants to spend time with us as an adult”, I said to my daughter’s mother.

2010: 
The above quote was amended and updated from ‘we’ll’ to ‘I’ll.’

Christmas 2024:
Ruby gives me the best gift I’ve received to date:
a letter (unsolicited). Among the two handwritten pages that left me in tears,
she included, “You know, Dad, many of my friends dread going home for winter
break. Not me. I enjoy the time we spend together.”

People who know Ruby have told me I’ve done a great job raising her,
especially since she’s lived with me since first grade.
I also tell them that I’ve been lucky: my daughter, by nature, is simply a good kid.
I also consider myself a “better than average father”
who made plenty of mistakes raising Ruby. The biggest
was moving at the end of her sophomore year into a new house with new people
and having to switch high schools.,
I apologized to her and am pleased to report that her aforementioned
Christmas letter included her forgiveness for my bad move.

I was raised by a mother who was left a widow at twenty-nine
with four children aged eleven, ten, eight, and yours truly,
who was just north of one. I’ll spare you feeling like you’re
sitting in my therapist’s chair and say my mother and I have never had a
profound or serious conversation.
I knew/know she loves me, and we get along, but there’s no substance – it’s all surface.

One of the significant factors in my strong bond with Ruby is that,
as far as communication is concerned, I am the polar opposite of my mother.
She shares nearly everything with me (sometimes she waxes a tad TMI).
When we take the “just shy of” four-hour drive to my sister’s, we don’t need a radio –
a break in conversation is only when Ruby decides to nap.
I never have to ask how school’s going,
how her friends are, etc. In contrast, if my mother asked
about college or any aspect of my life when I was nineteen,
my response was lengthy- usually “fine.” You should always
play to your audience; my mother received the only response she wanted.

Ruby and I have weathered my “relationship storms” and
have grown closer over time. My daughter finds it cringy
when I tell her she’ll “always be my little girl” (so, of course,
I’ll say it occasionally to get that reaction and laugh).
I’ll always be “dad” first, but we’ve become friends over
the years, especially as she started her journey into adulthood.
Ruby and I are sometimes co-conspirators, a traveling comedic duo,
sounding boards for one another, and partners in crime (we have yet to be caught).

It’s May 2024, and I’m pleased to be able to say, with confidence,
that I met my 2027 parenting goal: At nineteen, Ruby still wants to
spend time with me. Not to brag, but she’ll reach out to me to do so.

S. Barron Thompson has had several short pieces published in
print and/or online; seeds of several novels have been planted
which require a bit of sunshine (a good mood) and water (sweat) to break ground.