Dads, children and unmet wishes

It was one of those moments we've all experienced. You look up and, like the snap of a camera, you witness a flash of human emotion.

In this case we were at a wedding reception. A good friend of Meghan's had gotten married. He and Meghan for years were teammates on the Mission, Kansas, swim team. (There's that water again!)

The location was the Hobbs Building in the old West Bottoms area of Kansas City. The "Bottoms" are a storied collection of warehouse buildings, bumpy roads and occasional corner eateries, some of which have existed since Kansas City's industrial beginning.

Only this warehouse had been transformed -- from a stark structure of massive floor-to-ceiling pillars and cold, brick walls to a magical venue of lights, tables and, now, music.

We'd done our toasts and enjoyed the food. Then as the floor dances of the new husband and wife and their dads and moms got under way, I turned back to our table.

I happened then to glance up. And there, so very briefly, one of the younger waitresses -- I'd guess early twenties -- had paused in the bustle of the noise, her tray crowded with empty wine glasses. She had turned toward the dance floor.

And then she began to sway lightly ... back and forth ... to the music. Her eyes were bright; there was a slight smile. A wistful smile. It was one of those purely innocent moments that you covet but rarely see.

Of course, I don't know what she was thinking. But I could imagine -- the most obvious being that, for her, a wedding was a dream not yet realized. (Or, perhaps, she simply missed the one she loved.) She stood that way for, maybe, 10 seconds.

And then, as if a switch had been thrown, her eyes dimmed and she was off again, the smile consumed by the job at hand.

Thirty years ago, I don't think I would have appreciated such a moment. As a dad, though, with my own daughter roughly the same age, it touched all sorts of emotions. The most obvious to me: That I wished this waitress well, and that if she had a wish, that it would come true.

It's a cliche that dads want what's best for their children, though it's true for most of us. In fact, it burns so deep that in moments when those wishes are dashed or even delayed, it can devastate us.

It's also a cliche that dads are more inclined these days to wear their emotions on their sleeve, be in touch with their inner selves and enjoy Oprah as much as football.

Instead, I think dads by and large are still a quiet bunch who are most comfortable keeping their noses down, working very, very hard, grunting occasional hellos to the world while, indeed, wanting the very, very best for their families.

You see, inside these dads, love burns brightly -- like a thousand candles. Occasionally it will spill out, capable of lighting an entire room. But it rarely happens. Which is too bad.

After the wedding, as we were driving home, I thought again about the waitress. And I thought about her dad, wherever he might be. And I wished he could have witnessed her pause, her bright eyes and smile. Witnessed her dream.

Surely his eyes would have been as bright ... and his own smile as wistful.