As We Near Another Bridge, We Dream & Wonder About A Little Girl Named Sofia...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

McALLEN, Texas - It's getting sort of late, and I don't mean the time of day. Things are good, perhaps better than any one guy ought to have things. There are writing projects to complete and begin, places to go, friends and people to see, burgers and tacos to scarf, Scotch and wine to drink. I could be someone else, someone battling the physical and mental struggle that is getting old and older. Yeah, I am a lucky guy.

And I'm still a few months away from my next chronological slap (okay, okay celebration), yet I do feel one last, great, big dream passing me by.

It's been three years now since I've been wanting to have a daughter. I carry her name in my heart: Sofia, surely a precocious little kiddoe with a big smile and the unconditional love every father values like little else. As most who know me know, I have to daughters - Cynthia Paula (DFW) and Gabrielle Patricia (NYC). Cynthia has her family; Gabrielle her career in Manhattan, where her mother also lives, although not with her.

The beginnings of my flirtation with Sofia's curly hair and soft, loving voice came while I was dating a beautiful Art professor in Dallas whose radiant, red hair absolutely blinded me. But, then, I was also seeing another woman, a married one who at the time wanted out of her marriage...and a son by me. Rebecca, the former, and I tried, and even talked freely about Sofia, each of us imagining her in our own way. Rebecca would have been a great Mom. I just knew. We fell apart, however, and, although I still talk with her from time to time, well, we no longer talk about Sofia.

The other woman, an equally-beautiful, auburn-haired sweetheart, could never escape her marriage. She did, however, have her son by me. And I get photos from her every now and then, always surprises in the mail. He looks to be a handsome kid. He's two now, well, two and a few months. Once, she put him on the phone and he said something I couldn't make out, but his voice sounded like the voice of a kid who would grow and fly high. His mom bought him his first sweater. She told me it was a solid black one in color, my trademark. She named him Anthony without consulting me or her husband. The kid looks sharp in his black sweater and faded jeans and little harness boots. And the hair! She wouldn't cut it for a long time. For that, I was proud of her. Like I say at every opportunity, women help me across this God-abandoned world.

Sofia may still make it.

I just hope I have the time to enjoy her as much as I enjoyed my first two daughters. Ah, memories! Cynthia calling me in New Mexico to ask for $200, 'cause her mother wouldn't spring for dreadlocks. Gabrielle falling off a horse and cracking her collarbone, me antsy for the X-ray results, her Mom staying up with her for long nights that first week. Yeah, plus a hundred other snapshots of moments in their lives and how all that affected ours. I missed many of those great moments because of my job.

There was something about flying home from a long road trip and hitting the airport gift shop for stuffed toys. I am something of a sentimental guy. I will give generously and not simply to make myself feel good about giving. Perhaps it's because they're all women. I do believe I'd be harder on a boy, out of some desire to see him beat me at everything.

So, maybe it'll happen. I don't see any worthy Mommy prospects in this part of the world, but it could happen. It could happen tomorrow. It could happen this weekend. It's what they say: one wink leads to another, one smile to millions...

Sofia is ready, so I flirt and shop and party. And I hear her beautiful laughter, her little girl voice saying, "Alright, already. Pick one, Dad...Yeah, that one..."

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