Life has demonstrated, repeatedly, that I feel much, understand little and know essentially nothing. People that constantly work on themselves, their weaknesses, spirituality and shit, use to annoy me, but no longer do I avoid them, I aspire to be them.

When I was an undergrad I worked in an "Independent Retirement Home" and there were two types of old people 1) Assholes/Bitches 2) Gentlemen/Ladies. I didn't then understand why the #1's seemed so miserable and angry all the time, so out of place and imbalanced, but now as I approach 40, I am beginning to understand. Looking back it's easy to see what they didn't do as adults; they didn't grow up, they stopped growing—as if they hit 30 and decided that was who they were going to be, emotionally and otherwise.

The #2's had a happiness about them, a general joy with life that made them enjoyable to be around. Even when things weren't going well for them, they handled it with such grace, that I knew, on some level, they had something I wanted. At the time I believed it was simply a better life they had lived that made them happy people, but their happiness had very little, or nothing, to do with how much they made, how far they traveled or how big their homes were. What made them happy was their constant openness to growth, and thus, life.

It's quite cliche to go on about always growing and learning, so instead let's sum it up with the word Humble. I prefer the following definition of the word, since Merriam-Webster hasn't gotten this one quite right.

Humble: to behave in such a way that shows empathy while maintaining confidence without a better-than attitude; to remain open to growth, information and other's perspectives without assuming an all-knowing attitude.

Humility: Don't go through life without it, and once you believe you have it, keep going.

When I was young, I imagined the great love of my life would be like a Cinderella story. I would find my prince charming and we would live happily every after. He would be tall and handsome. He would be smart and heroic. And of course, he would live in a giant castle.

As I got older that view changed, though only in context. I still believed that my greatest love story would come in the form of a handsome man who would sweep me off my feet in a grandiose wedding. Though I did meet my prince charming, and though I did have the wedding of my dreams, it was not, the defining love of my life. That would come a year after my wedding.

Laying on the hospital bed I gave one final push with a groaning scream that seemed to emenate from a howling beast. Certainly not from me. I laid back, having been awake for more than 24 hours at that point, glistening with sweat and thoroughly exhausted. I briefly thought to myself ‘what could be worth this’? And then they handed her to me.

She was so small. I wondered how it had possibly taken so long and so much work for her to come into the world. She had a head full of tousled, sticky hair and her eyes were dark globes staring directly at me.

Our eyes locked and for a moment it was like a full understanding fell between us. She knew me and I, inexplicably, knew her. For me it was the beginning of love like I had never understood it before.

I didn’t know if it was day or night outside. I didn’t know if it was raining or snowing. I didn’t know anything. For all I knew the sun could have turned purple and the stars could have disappeared from the sky. The only things in the universe were her and me. We were it.

In the days that followed her cries filled my every moment. I was ragged and sleep deprived and she was frustrated and confused. I rocked, soothed, fed and sang day and night. Sleep came in two hour doses and yet the deepest love permeated every one of those hours. She was mine, but more importantly I was hers.

I had my life all figured out. I knew what I wanted to do for my career. I knew the type of man I wanted to marry. I knew who my best friends were and where I wanted to live. And I thought I knew what love was...and then I met her.

Solid carved oak exploded off its hinges leaving the couple it shielded hiding behind the hallway's walls. Maniacal laughing escaped its precipice. The woman clutching her boyfriend scrabbled up his lap. The mini-skirt hung off the swinging chandelier. The monster howled to high heavens making the big, brave football player shove his girlfriend off as a peace offering to a very cranky volcano. The young woman glared while in her underwear.

"Knight in shining armor my foot," growled the Princess.

She glanced skyward. The color in drained from her face. The monster's sneering eyes and teeth glowed like burning coals. She straightened up her panties. Her hands clasped to her chest trying to look as proper a daughter a half-naked girl could be. One bra strap drooped off one shoulder.

"Hi Daddy," she called, her silvery voice squeaked.

Daddy's eyes flared with sparkly hellfire.

Her boyfriend panicked in the hall imitating a helium sucking pterosaur, complete with flapping arms, and a range of expressions. Dismay morphed to resignation. Resignation gaped into recognition. Recognition screeched out "Oh crud" to what the Fudge-Under-Cupcake-Kitties in that same order. His girlfriend bowed her head in shame. The "man" she loved having thrown her under a bus.

"What is the meaning of this!" boomed Daddy, "You there, puny peasant, march yourself into my sights!"

Both scared little teens shuffled into the open. Whatever eagerness the boyfriend had shriveled away. There amidst the chaos flung clothes hung at weird angles. The stench wafted a tattletale stinker of their escapades. Daddy fell to one knee. Twenty tons of armored muscle lifted the boy's and girl's bowed head with one claw tip.

"Explain yourselves," Daddy requested a fireball flashed in his free hand.

The boyfriend's bounded through the window. Never had an athlete ever tripped over a bush so gracefully while hopping a fence. Brambles slapped his face. Thornbushes ripped his briefs. The girlfriend called after him. She waved his pants with her other hand.

"Wait!" she shouted, "You dropped your..."

The Princess's eyes slackened to saucer size. A scroll unfurled from the football player's ripped pants. It bounced across the floor. A tattered trail painting miles to its paper surface.

"Phone numbers," trailed off the Princess, "And condoms? Oh... dear."

Daddy tutted. His heartbroken daughter sobbed into his hand.

"Sweetie, I forbid this boyfriend from stepping into this house ever again." he stated.

"Can you teach me how to blast him too," she sniffled, "One laser burn for every heart he's broken."

The big evil warlock smiled. His thumb ruffled the girl's hair. Eyes glistening at the father/daughter bonding over spilled vengeance.

"You're grounded," he concluded. She gasped with horror and he added, "After we rob his village and donate his riches to the poor and downtrodden."

The Princess gave her father a wan smile. Sometimes, it stunk having an evil warrior wizard for a father. Yet sometimes she loved her Daddy. This was one of those times.

"Thank you," she stated, "Just don't roast him too much. I want the kids to see his reaction at school tomorrow."