They were running late, but Martin wasn’t the least bit worried. Being late for preschool was one burden that he didn’t have to carry.

“Come on pumpkin, grab Papa’s hand, and off we go!” He said with a big jovial smile as he slung her unicorn backpack over his right shoulder and reached for her tiny little hand.

As her delicate little fingers closed around his own worn and weary ones, he paused a moment to marvel once again at how perfect she was. Completely unmarked, untainted, with her smooth porcelain skin and her big oval shaped eyes. Her name was Joy, and that was exactly what she was. Pure and absolute Joy in human form.

The French braid that he had clumsily put in her hair this morning was starting to go astray already. His wrinkled, leathered fingers had been awkward and gangly as her silky hair had slid out of his grasp. It had been much harder than the book that he had bought on hairstyles for little girls had made it out to be. He smiled ruefully and gently stroked the back of her hair with his free hand. It didn’t matter. She was perfect, nonetheless.

“Papa, let’s go!” She looked up at him expectantly, and he laughed out loud.

“You got it, Joy-Girl, let’s get out of this cold.” They started together hand-in-hand across the parking lot towards her daycare.

“Gee willikers, I’m about ready to freeze like Olard the Snowman!” Martin said, with a glint in his eye. Joy erupted in high-pitched giggles beside him.

“It’s NOT ‘Olard’, it’s Olaf!”

“Oh! Gee I always get that wrong, don’t I…”

They picked their way across the parking lot together, Martin clutching a little tighter to her tiny hand as they traversed shiny patches of ice and snow. As they reached the sliding front doors, he could feel Joy’s steps slow a bit. They always did here. A brief moment of trepidation at the prospect of a long day. He could relate.  

“Want me to carry you in, sweet girl?” He asked kindly, stooping down to her level and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She nodded with a small smile, and he stooped to pick her up.

Martin’s knees were getting old. Hell, all of him was getting old. While there had certainly been no celebration, no cake, no balloons, no party; all the same, he had turned 70 years old last Summer. That night, he had gone to the store and bought himself his favourite Maple Cinnamon coffee cake and had eaten three quarters of it all by himself sitting in front of the Twins game. They ended up losing the game, but he had enjoyed the evening anyway.

That Summer, his daughter Avery seemed like she had been doing a little better. Like she might have been turning the corner, and emerging from the dark spell that she had fallen into after Joy was born, and her husband had left her. But as golden sunsets had faded into dreary skies and the lush fall foliage gave way in favour of tired branches and bitter cold, Avery had slid back down the hill, back into a deep, all-encompassing depression. And it had mostly been him and Joy ever since.

Martin gave a shake of his long silvery hair down his back and adjusted Joy to his other hip. She was turning 4 in just a couple of months and was starting to get heavy. He made a mental note to get himself to the gym a little more often while she was at preschool to make sure that he could still pick her up for as long as she needed him to. To do anything that she could ever possibly need for her, for as long as she needed him to.

“Good morning,” he said with a warm smile to the young women at the front desk, as he and Joy crossed the front hallway to the center. They always seemed to be working so hard, tapping away at their computers at the same time as answering an ever-ringing phone. They reminded him of Avery from years past, and he found them to be impressive. While they weren’t able to answer him out loud, both women smiled back at him, and the brunette on the left lifted her hand in a half-wave to acknowledge him.

As they made their way towards the double doors to the hallway, he could feel Joy’s little arms tighten around his shoulders just a little more, and he gently squeezed her back. There was an obviously frazzled young mother making her way down the hall from the other direction pushing a stroller and hanging onto a very small baby, who was wailing in despair. Martin paused and opened the door for her, catching the young mother’s eye with a genuine smile.

“Go on ahead, you’re doing a great job,” he said sincerely. He thought he could detect the tiniest upturn at the corner of her lips, and that lightened the load on his heart, for the briefest of moments.

Once they were through the double doors, it was just a little further down the hallway to Joy’s preschool classroom; a warm and inviting room with lofty ceilings and big bright windows that let lots of sunlight in. As he did every day, he thought to himself what a good job Avery had done in choosing this place for her daughter. She was so good at that kind of thing. Always researching, always gathering all of the information and making the best decision possible. He had always thought that she would make a great lawyer. Maybe she still could be. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her. Maybe it wasn’t too late for any of them.

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