Maggie was adjusting the bridal veil and Amy was dreamily staring off in the distance, lost in thought, whether of her late mother or her beloved or both, I do not know. But then, I could not tell if I were thinking more of the young woman who had first worn that gown for me or of the little girl whose life we had created together, now a woman of surpassing grace. If I could not sort out my own thoughts; I do not know why I should suppose that Amy's thoughts were any less complex, nor why I should be able to decipher them.I stopped, stood dead still, gazed at her, still unaware of my presence as she was. My eyes filled again. I do not know how long I stood there, blinking away the tears. Probably it was but a few seconds. A slender hand slipped two tissues into mine and I wiped my eyes. "It's time," said Jenny and, with gentle pressure on my arm, guided me forward to join my daughter.Amy picked a photo from that session to be specially framed for me and I treasure it. It is a candid. They each had only one item on their Christmas list and I had failed them both. The stores had been sold out for weeks and though I had reminded Moby Dick to get them, he had waited until it was too late. I couldn’t even find them on-line at a price that I could afford. It was a quiet, still night with only lightly falling snow so everything was very quiet. Well, almost everything. Shamu, beside me, was performing his nightly ritual of farting, burping and snoring. What a pig. At least there were lulls in the acoustic bombardment that afforded me some degree of solace. It was during one of those lulls that I heard something downstairs. I waited for the next respite and then heard it again. It sounded like someone was in our house. I shook the lug beside me in an effort to get him to go check it out but that was futile endeavor. I slipped out of bed and in the dark reached for the softball bat in the corner of the closet. If I could help it, no one was going to steal what few things.
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