No, she's not MY daughter, but I knew her father.

Thorough wrote about temporarily having possession of a man's axe and returning the axe to the man sharper than when he received it. I read that in May 05. I knew he was not so much talking about a man's axe as much as he was describing an idea for respecting, caring for, and being responsible for prized possessions of others. Even the peace and serinity of another person is a possession I can take away and dull or sharpen for having been in the presence.

This is Emma. Since 2009 we've grown a connection where we learn from each other. I has sons. No daughters. She has a mom, her dad passed away when Emma was 9. For six years we lived and learned, laughed, cried some,  and laughed again, never stopped learning.

I lost a child once, I never wanted to lose another. Emma told me one day with a diamond of a tear dropping from her eye, "I lost a Dad once, I didn't want to lose another." Grateful to say one day after a memorable day at the Jefferson Arabian Horse Show, nothing was lost. The prized possessions are sharper than when we acquired them.

I'm asked from time to time, "Tom, is Emma your daughter?" What my head wants to say is 'no, she's not but she was supposed to be.' That's a bitter laced answer, inappropriate and lacking in Grace. Yesterday the proper response came to me. This is it: "Is Emma MY daughter?  She is not my daughter,  but I knew her Dad. I'm fortunate to have a special place in Emma's life."

For certain we are both sharper for having been in the presence of each other since 2009.