To My Daughter On Her Wedding Day, II

An Open Letter

My dear daughter,

To The Marriage Of True Minds
The god of English (a.k.a. Shakespeare) wrote that love “bears [the vicissitudes of time] out even to the edge of doom.” Who am I to argue with a god? Perhaps doom is our inevitable end, but even so, my love for you will endure for at least as long. My intention is to cling to the only thing that I suppose has the power to endure beyond this life. That is LOVE, or the bard and I are both terribly wrong. You have chosen to pursue a love of your own and I hope that it will prove to carry you, too, into eternity.

Washers And Dryers
You have always been a vivacious little queen. There is an image indelibly etched upon my mind of a little girl with her blond locks tied back into a little granny bun leaning into the front loading washer and dryer to help her parents change batches of laundry. You nearly disappeared into the belly of those machines reaching for articles of clothing. I knew then that you would disappear into the belly of this world one day. I have never feared, believing that you would reemerge with the bowels of the wicked in one hand and a sword of righteousness in the other. Okay, so a man can fantasize a little can’t he? I don’t care. I’ll say what I want to. I raised you to establish good and to put down evil. Good luck trying to escape it if you will.

I was gratified beyond measure when you chose to leave your family, your friends, and everything familiar to you to pursue a college education in the heart of the desert. There was plenty to fear, and I could see that you were trembling inside, but you marched ahead undaunted. You endured great uncertainty, great disappointment, and great persecution, all of which only purified and forged your mettle. There’s no disgrace in deciding that there were greater rewards in other ventures. I’ll admit, however, that I was slightly saddened to find that marriage was your new pursuit, only because I wanted to push you further into the furnace. I guess I’ll have to leave that up to your husband to do, if he will.

Wedding Rings and Other Things
When I toured your apartment the other day, I had difficulty quite understanding my own emotions. It’s a lovely place, but I think I wanted to see you have to scrub filthy carpets and paint walls covered in squallor, maybe stacking scavenged cinders and lumber for a place to set your scanty dishes or to create a joke of a barrier against the god awful desert winds and sand. I struggle even now to know why I hoped for this. I guess I really wanted to see what you would become if you encountered great adversity. I believe there’s something in you that will truly amaze. When I saw your many-carat ring…, well, let’s just say that I know life will kick the hell out of you and I can’t wait to see what you do about it.

I appreciate and understand your husband wanting to provide for you. It’s much to his credit, but please don’t turn soft, my angel. Maintain that fierce determination that I know burns inside of you. If life hands you roses, plant them in the goddamn sand and create something in your heart that makes them look like the prickly thorns that they truly are. I have no idea what you’ll create, but I want to see it dazzle my eyes. Like I said, a dad can dream and this is mine.

Open Heart and Open Mind
I don’t think it’s realistic to hope that all of my daughters will enter into plural marriage. Some people have to experience monogamy, I suppose, may God help their souls. Perhaps monogamy is the furnace that I hoped for, but please don’t get too cozy in it. My heart truly despises the shriveled up, self-absorbed, scarcity mentality that seems to accompany this lifestyle. Please make room in your home, your heart, and your mind for other women to flourish and thrive. Your husband does not belong to you. I will fight for him before I’ll let you take possession, my dear. I bless this marriage because I believe him to be a fellow servant of the king of the universe; I do not take that lightly, as you know. Treat your husband like an emperor, and his heart will enlarge enough to embrace more than one. Love is like the rays of the sun; there is enough for us all if we’re willing to walk in it–even more if we’ll make it ourselves. Radiate it like the sun, okay?

With love forever, your dad,
Ariel Hammon