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Story #1 - Waiting on You

The wind shrieked furiously, hurling crystalline flakes against the glass. The faint buzz of the overhead lights underlaid the quiet words shared between two huddled figures sitting in the row in front of him. Every so often, the external doors would swing open as new people were ushered into the room, popping the bubble of tranquility with quick snatches of conversation and scuffing of shoes as people hurried past, a needed reminder that time was indeed trickling by outside the waiting room.

He’d tried to lean back in the chair and close his eyes, but the incessant shaking of his leg sent the cold metal ramming into the back of his head. When he got tired of retracing the lines of the spiderweb crack in the ceiling panel tile, he turned his attention towards the other people in the room with him. Regardless if they were conversing, pacing, or watching the true crime documentary on small television propped up in the corner, everyone kept one eye trained on the heavy metal doors to the operating room.

When they swung open, revealing a nurse with a tightly-wrapped bundle in her arms, the room held its breath as she announced whose family she was looking for. He zeroed in on what she was cradling, and felt his spine lock up when he saw just how frighteningly little it was, even under all the layers of blankets. They weren’t looking for him, so he dropped his head down to stare at the speckled floor tiles, counting how many dots were in each square while his fingers attempted to strangle one another in his lap. Looking at the mud splatters adorning his battered jeans, he thought he could’ve probably tried to dress a little nicer, but he’d headed straight to the hospital from the site after the call. It’s not as if the baby would care if he wasn’t here to meet her in a three-piece suit, right? Hell, he’d read that newborns couldn’t even see in colour for the first little bit of their lives, so he was willing to bet she wouldn’t be too upset with him. 

As the errant thoughts tumbled around in the washing machine of his mind, the creak of opening doors broke through the racket, and a voice called for him. He should probably get that boulder in his throat checked out, it was preventing him from swallowing his nerves as he rose on sea legs to meet the nurse at the door. When she pulled the daisy yellow blanket back, he saw a flushed little face, pale violet eyelids adorned with fluttering lashes and a few strands of dark hair curling across her forehead. Hastily, he bent his arms awkwardly into a cradle-like shape and she was placed into his arms. He was aware of the nurse saying something, but she may have been trying to speak underwater for all he heard, instead watching with fascination at the way her brows furrowed and un-furrowed, clearly not so pleased with the noisiness of the outside world. She weighed nothing, yet he felt an odd sense of groundedness at the feeling of her in his arms and he knew it'd be all right. He'd do everything he could to make it so.

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Transmedia Element - Story #1

Friedrich, Caspar D. Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. 1818, Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg.

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Transmedia Element - Story #1

Wonder, Stevie. "Isn't She Lovely." Songs in the Key of Life, Tamla Records, 1976.

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Transmedia Element - Story #1

Davies, Jeffery J. Sun Meets Horizon Series. (Photograph at North Beach, Seabrook Island, SC)

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Story #2 - All the In-Betweens

All of those parenting books, the blogs and websites with tips and tricks for child-rearing, he would’ve liked to share some choice words with whoever made them. Some of the blame should arguably be put on him for expecting a clear-cut, fool-proof manual to parenthood, but he wished someone could have better prepared him for what it was really like to be responsible for a little life. The first few weeks home, he lived on a precipice, constantly teetering on the edge of falling into a full-blown panic. When she was awake, a single cry would send him scrambling for a bottle, a new diaper, anything as he tried to interpret what she could possibly be asking for in a wordless wail. When she was asleep, he spent sleepless nights holding vigil in a rocking chair beside her crib, periodically checking to make sure she was breathing. Too often, he'd wake up immobilized from the waist down from the daggers lodged in the base of his spine after slumping over on the couch the night before.

There was a magic, however, in watching the delicate newborn, who couldn’t even hold her own head up, learn to roll over and sit up and take her first wobbling steps across the carpet to him. How quickly she grew into a babbling toddler, so bright, inquisitive, and full of laughter. One of his fondest memories remains the sight that greeted him each morning when he opened the door to her bedroom. She always woke early, when the sun had just begun to extend its golden fingers over the horizon, peeking through the blinds to wash her room in a gentle glow. Hair flattened on one side and cheeks rosy from sleep, she stood holding the railing of her crib, patiently waiting for him. At the sound of the door, her face would light up and she would break into excited chatter while her stubby hands reached out for him. There was nothing quite like it, the love that threatened to overflow the confines of his heart at the sight of her smiling at him when the door opened.

From then on, there was no stopping her. No book mentioned just how quickly first steps would turn into first days of school, first dates, first cars. He remembered thinking that nothing could be worse than the sinking stone in his stomach as he stood beside her at the bus stop, her little hand clasped in his clammy hand as they watched the big yellow bus chug up the hill and come to a shuddering stop in front of the house. He’d thought about making a run for it, but he forced himself to let go of her hand when the doors opened and watched as she climbed the steps, too-big backpack hanging like a turtle shell. It seemed all too soon that he would be moving the little girl who’d gotten on the school bus not so long ago into her college dorm across the country. In the absence of thundering feet and endless chattering over the breakfast table, he found the silence unnerving and rather lonesome, but there was a fierce pride in knowing that slowly, she was making her way out into the world.

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Transmedia Element - Story #2

Dean, Billy. "Let Them Be Little." Let Them Be Little, Curb Records, 2004.

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Transmedia Element - Story #2

Allan, Lesley. Rose Colored Fun.

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Transmedia Element - Story #2

Kahan, Noah. "You're Gonna Go Far." Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever), Republic Records, 2023.

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Transmedia Element - Story #2

Zeppelin, Led. "All My Love." In Through the Out Door, Swan Song Records, 1979.

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Story #3 - There She Goes

The din of the murmuring attendees had been sealed out by the heavy double doors, but even in the quiet of the side chamber, he found it impossible to relax. The starched collar of his dress shirt dug into the base of his throat, and while his leather dress shoes were buffed so well he could check his reflection in them, his toes were crammed together like sardines in a can. He would have said so to her, an attempt to calm her nerves and maybe even coax a laugh out of her, but he knew she’d want the silence to collect her thoughts. His girl was rarely ever still, and even more rare for her to be quiet. 

They’d let him in to see her in her dress prior to the ceremony, ladies dolled-up after hours of witchcraft using brushes and powders and hair tools filing out of the suite to give the two of them some privacy. She was standing by the window, the morning sun enveloping her in its golden arms as she gazed at the neat rows of white chairs in the garden below. At the sound of the door, she’d turned, and a radiant smile broke out across her face at the sight of him. She’d asked him how she looked, laughing as she spun in her white dress, and the hand around his heart squeezed so tightly it’d taken a few seconds for him to find enough air to form a coherent sentence. In his mind’s eye he saw her in the living room at the old house, teetering on wobbly toddler legs across the carpet. She’d been wearing a pink dress then, with layers of ruffled tulle and ribbons. Maria had clucked her tongue when she saw the price tag, lamenting that the dress was far too expensive knowing how fast she’d grow out of it, but it’d been worth it many times over to see the delight on her face when she’d pulled out the pink frock. She hadn’t wanted to take it off, waddling in circles so he could appreciate the dress from all different angles. 

He snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye, and almost stumbled from the force of the shockwave that rammed into his chest when he saw a young woman, sleek and elegant and grown up, and not a toddler with a wild mane of bedhead and crumbs on her face. Briefly, he returned to a snowy night some twenty-odd years ago, when a young man had sat in an uncomfortable metal chair, waiting for the arrival of a girl that would change his life so completely. It was right there in that quiet room, as the usher’s hushed voice broke through the steady ticking of the clock with instructions for them to take their places, that he finally let go of the little girl in the pink dress and took the hand of the young lady she’d become.

“I love you, Dad.”

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, tucking those words and the feeling of her hand in his away in his heart as the great oak doors slowly swung open, lovely music and warm sunlight slipping past the crack to greet them. 

“You and me, love, always.” 

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Transmedia Element - Story #3

Tiktok Video - Father of the Bride Edit (Movie/Video Clip)

“Make Your Day.” TikTok, www.tiktok.com/@jvhkza/video/7367066773310459168. Accessed 20 Nov. 2024.

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Transmedia Element - Story #3

Stapleton, Chris. "Joy Of My Life." Starting Over, Mercury Nashville, 2020.

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Transmedia Element - Story #3

ABBA. "Slipping Through My Fingers." The Visitors, Polar Epic, 1981.