Date Night

"If you could just sign your name here and provide an address... We'll be sending thank you cards for your attendance."

No problem! Here ya go!

"That'll be $150, please."

I look over at my date, whose eyebrows are now rising against the raised ceiling of the venue we've entered.

I look back at the door-woman. She looks at my date, and then back at me.

"How did you hear of this show?"

Um.... Not to sound like a douchebag, but.... my boyfriend's in the band.

She waves us in after accepting my donation (150 bucks is a bit steep for 3 songs for my ten year old, but I'm not going in without paying something, either)...

Do you want a glass of water? Some milk?

"No."

Do you wanna go up front?

".....Yeah..... 'My boyfriend's in the band'...." she says with a snicker. We laugh. She gets it. We laugh at the realization, that a line has been crossed, that she's suddenly privy to conversation that had previously been ignored, or at best, misunderstood. We're playing on the same level, suddenly. I explain: I wasn't trying to take advantage, just trying not to pay 150 bucks for a show we'd only catch 20 minutes of. She rolls her eyes. I ask, "Well, do *you* have 150 bucks?" Her eyes cast downward. "Alright, then. Let's go in."

So we do. And she actually *likes* it. She thinks the lead singer is funny, and laughs when she recognizes the guitarist, wig and all. He plays a brief solo. "Is that him?" Yup. She smiles, curious, and dare I say... proud.

They take a break, and he shows her around backstage.

"I'm on stage! Can they see me?"

Yes, Madi. You can see them; they can see you.

She giggles.

We leave early, stopping at the Palomino for some take-out dinner on the way home. I used to work there. She used to come with me to work for a few hours at the beginning of every shift, waiting for her dad to pick her up. And would stand beneath the bar, which stood a full six inches above her head, and ask me to ask Bill, the bartender, for some cherries. And he'd give her four toothpicks full, with oranges and everything. The menu's listing of tater tots used to read "tater nuts" in honor of what she called them when she was only two years old.

And there we were. And she asked for quarters to play pool while our food was cooking, and she asked me to play with her, and I did. And she used the cue and everything. We talked of math, the geometry involved in shooting pool, and I thought, "This is what I want you to learn at this age. The connection between boring school stuff and how it might serve you in everyday life."

And when we came home, she told me she wasn't sure if she believed in God. "Sometimes my dad and I kind of make jokes..." and she ducked her head, as if waiting for the invisible lightning bolt to strike her down.

And all I can think is... Who is this beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, compassionate girl, and how many days will fly by so fast before she's standing before me, arguing politics and defending herself against the questions I pose regarding her latest relationship.

Answer? My daughter. And not enough.

Hold tight to what you've got, Milwaukee. It changes so fast.

And, Madi? I'm more proud of you than you could ever imagine.