If I'm very attentive, very quiet, sometimes I catch a brief, fleeting glimpse of heaven. I glimpsed it today. It revealed itself just after touring a potential rental home with my Dad. Little Miss Avery Kate joined us, reveling in the thrilling combination of stocking feet and a spacious, vacant house. After chatting with the landlord and watching Avery's lime green feet zip yet another time in and out of each room, we prepared to leave. Dad suggested that he might walk home, since it was only a few blocks away. I glanced at Avery, "Do you want to walk with Papa?" She jumped and smiled. Yes.
As I drove away, I opened the window and shouted, "See you at home!" And then I saw it. I glanced in my rear view mirror and caught a glimmer of the holy. My father, walking hand-in-hand with my daughter. He with his hat and jacket, she with her wild hair and shiny black boots. He keeping a slower, steady gait in order that she might skip merrily, unrushed by his side. He looking down with love in his eyes, she looking up with adoration in hers. I crested the hill, eyes glistening, and they disappeared from view.