There's three instances that I will admit brought tears to my eyes; our wedding, the birth of our first baby, and her marriage 23 years later. She was as beautiful as her mother. She radiated pure joy as I walked her down the aisle. Her groom, a young man who was due to be shipped out to the marines three months later, stood beaming at the altar, his eyes fixed on his bride.
But until we reached the end of the aisle, she was my Apple Blossom. When we got there, she'd be my grown-up Apple. She'd be her own woman with her own family.
We stopped, and she turned to me. I held her tight, my little Georgie with the pink hairbrush.
"I love you, Daddy," she said.
"I love you too, baby."
I released her begrudgingly. She smiled just like her mother, nose wrinkled, eyes nearly shut. Her big blue eyes sparkled with joy, as they should on her wedding day. I kissed her forehead, and took my seat as she stood next to her groom.
I held Carrie's hand as our daughter pledged her life to the young soldier. She kissed my cheek as a tear slipped down it. "Our little Georgie isn't so little anymore, hmm?"
"Don't say it like that," I whispered. "I'm already crying."
"Yes," she said with a smile. "They're very manly tears, it's okay."
I laughed quietly and kissed her hand. "Thanks, Honey."
"It's okay, you've still got your Apples. We're not going anywhere."
YOU ARE READING
My Apple's Smile
Ficción GeneralAn old Japanese myth tells that you're reborn with the face of the person you loved in your past life. As you reenter the world, looking again for love as a new person with an empty memory, you wear your old love's face in a final sign of devotion t...
