I was in line at Barnes and Noble buying book for Mia, my dry-cleaner’s little girl, when I see another little girl with her dad ahead of me.
No more than 2, hair to her waist, a miniature Latino fashion plate…iridescent white tights, teeny boots, a T-shirt that says, I Love My Daddy, while wee gold hoops glistened in her ears.
And did her daddy love her. I watched how he never took his eyes away as she stood sweetly by his side waiting to pay for her tiny troll doll she was simply captivated by.
I had to smile, that something so small could make her so satisfied. She was such a beautiful child, one could only imagine what her mother looked like, though dad wasn’t too shabby either.
The two of them shared big brown eyes the size of saucers and lips like sofa cushions.
Genes never fail to impress me, how they reproduce beauty as if it came off a conveyor belt.
I saw them again by the front door where he was kneeling, buttoning her coat.
It was love at its purest.
I smiled at him, knowing,
he knew, just what I was smiling at.