Day Out for Dad and Daughter

Every day is a gift. This tale pulled at my heart from both the past and the future. There are many days that I long to share just one more day with my parents, both of whom have passed. As a father of a young girl, I know how important it is to spend time with her, yet I already feel that I will never have enough time with her. Tonight we'll read together a little bit longer. Thank you.

Thanks for a wonderful story, well told. I think those who leave NYC are more appreciative of what we have. I always thought I was one of the few who didn't take this city for granted, but when I read your story, I realized I never took my kids to the various landmarks in my life, except for the Brooklyn home I grew up in, where my father still resides. And then, I realized that my father never took me to his landmarks. I only found out from my father that he had lived in a LES tenement after I told him that I had visited the museum! We all seem to take the things we love for granted until they are no longer a constant presence in our lives. Thanks for the wake-up!

Michael, a great experience that I'm grateful you shared. I have long left the NYC area for education and opportunities in another region, but have made it a point to instill in my family the wonderment of our City through annual visits, each having their own unique experiences. Perhaps my favorite "moment" as a parent was as I was standing outside on 5th Ave one crisp October day as my wife stepped inside to shop. I was holding my 6 month old daughter and kind strangers of varying nationalities and accents would stop to complement how lucky I was. Flash forward 17 years, that same daughter chose her Prom dress across the street at Saks. New York is the dye in my wool.

That last line makes me miss my own Dad so much. But what it says to me is that it matters not *where* we live, it is family and relationships that we should be treasuring.

ah, my father would have been 99 yesterday....

Wonderful story, Michael Herzlinger. I like your repetition of the word "indulged." Your daughter and you indulged each other. In my mind's eye, I pictured your young daughter on the subway excitedly reliving the day's adventures with your new friend. I also like your repetition of the word "wistful." You felt wistful and your new friend appeared wistful. Again in my mind's eye, I pictured your new friend as a young girl with her dad walking down (shall we say) Fifth Avenue on a sunny day.

Quite a beautiful story and that ending packs a wallop. I'd been spending much of the afternoon checking prices and therefore going back and forth on visiting my parents in Florida for their 65th anniversary next month, and that ending of your story convinced me that I should just book it and commit to going.