ONE MORE SMILE

Dear Spike:

Your smile is pure magic. Magic, I say.

Simple, innocent, unbeguiling and contagious. A two-toothed truth beyond any measure I've ever known. No tricks. No smoke. No mirrors. Just real, old-fashioned enchantment.

I must have forgotten what it was like to see such a pure expression of happiness. Or maybe I never knew. For although we all smile — far more than we frown — we're all just a bit jaded, just a bit guarded, just a bit cautious. We wear our smiles as masks. We flash our smiles as weapons. We use our smiles as ploys.

But you don't. Not yet, anyway. For now — and I don't know how much longer — your smile simply means what it most simply means.

"I am happy. I am happy to see you. I love you."

It is an incredible thing, being greeted by your child in this way. No one can love anything more than I love you. And when you smile at me I sense the reciprocal is true. And nothing can be better than that feeling. Nothing in the world.

I am practicing smiling back at you with all the honesty you give to me, and without regard for the rather sad certainty that one day, perhaps one day soon, your smile will reveal more teeth — and more nuance.

Maybe a little flattery. Maybe a little charm. Maybe a little Oh-Daddy-Please-Can-I—?.

Yes, you may. Just one more smile, please. As real and true and magical as you can muster.

Just one more smile, please.

Love,
dad