Be careful how high you let your dreams carry you, my dear. My arms are not very long and if you drift beyond their reach, we will have only our memories and the air between to sustain us. Even then, I will stand with crooked neck and aching back to watch your silhouette make its stamp upon the moon, forever ready to catch you, should you fall. For what are fathers for, if not to stand guard while their daughters swim for the stars? To cheer them on while standing forever below, waving arms in triumphant pride, only to wipe the occasional tear that comes from seeing how high you go, and how far away your dreams will take you.