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FIFTEEN YEARS LATER
Damien
Daisy Blackwood, my daughter, is unapologetically intense and enchanting. At seventeen and a half, she stood five feet eight inches with long brown hair and green eyes that scanned a room like she was mentally reorganizing it.
She heads three clubs, is a co-founder of the student-run mental health initiative, is class president, and co-founded Glitter & Grace, which she runs with Delilah.
What is Glitter & Grace? A teen-focused emotional wellness brand that sells affirmation journals, crystal pens, and confidence. Daisy and Delilah said it’s for girls who lead with poise but never play small.
I made the mistake of opening one of her color-coded journals the other day and saw a Post-it note that readTake up space. Then rent it out.I had no idea what that meant, and I didn’t want to.
“Girls, let’s go!” I shouted. “We have to get to the hangar.”
“I’m so excited to go to Vegas.” Daisy rolled her two suitcases behind her, with Delilah following behind with one.
“Daisy, it’s a three-day trip.”
She took her phone from her pocket and popped her lips. “Correct.”
“You packed like you’re moving to Vegas,” I said with irritation.
“You never know.” She smiled.
“Are you planning a heist or something? An outfit change every hour?”
She gasped as if I had offended her. “Dad, I need options.”
“Her one suitcase is nothing but heels,” Delilah said.
“You packed heels in one suitcase and nothing else?” I cocked my head.
“They’re emotional support stilettos, Daddy.”
“Did she tell you about the six purses she packed?” Willa smirked, pushing the button for the elevator.
“You’re bringing six purses for a three-day trip?” I asked Daisy.
“Dad, what don’t you understand? Each one tells a different story. What if we go to brunch and then a rooftop party? What if someone offers us a yacht?” She blinked.
“Right. Has that ever happened in the seventeen years you’ve been alive?”
“Give it time, Daddy.” Her brow raised.
“And your Louis Vuitton duffel bag? What’s in there? Jewelry? Confetti? The contract for your future career?”
“Hair tools, skincare. Emergency backup skincare. The usual. Oh, and a steamer. I won’t wrinkle in public, Father.”
As we climbed into the Escalade, I shook my head and rubbed my temples.
“Why do you insist on arguing with her?” Willa asked, softly rubbing the back of my neck.
“Because it’s ridiculous, Willa. Ridiculous.”
“Listen. We always knew what a little diva she’d be. She was a diva and controlling me in the womb.” She smirked.
Daisy reached over from the second row and patted my shoulder. “You raised me to be prepared. You should be proud. But I will need you to carry my emotional baggage when we land.”
“Breathe, Damien. Breathe,” Willa said.