Storytelling for Week 10: An Old Man and his Daughter

Outside my home I sat, keeping my old hands busy with familiar work.  What was once my life's purpose now kept me busy, kept my mind from wandering to past places that were no more.  I missed those old times, when I put my trade to use and men were noble and proud.  Now men are boys, full of themselves and feminine.  My daughter, a beautiful reflection and reminder of my wife, sat by my side weaving intricate patterns and designs.  Although she was sitting next to me, her mind was somewhere far away, lost in thought.  Why she stayed with me I don't know; suitors came seeking her hand, but she waved them off like bothersome gnats during summer.
As we sat occupied with our work and thoughts something broke our silence, a footstep of someone approaching.  Out stepped a man who stood apart from those of his generation, a man whose deeds and words were of someone much older and wiser.  I knew him as a occasional customer as well as by his preceding reputation.  I welcomed him in, glad to have such good company, and my daughter did as well.

 Hands. Web Source: Imgarcade

He walked inside our home with his large stature filling the doorway, and we sat as my daughter brought refreshment for our guest. He talked for a while, my daughter entranced by our guest's every word.  This was not like his usual visits, however; he spoke with purpose, leading the conversation to the reason he was there.  He talked slowly and clearly, asking permission for my daughter's hand.  I took a moment to gather my thoughts, but I knew that this man would care for and love her. 

"You have my permission, but there is someone else who must say yes," I said looking over at my daughter.

I looked at him and then looked at her, my daughter looking even more lovely than she normally did.  She nodded and he took her hand, leading her away from our home.  I stood watching them leave, and I suddenly realized that I was alone.  I slowly sat back down outside my home, keeping my old hands and mind busy with familiar work.

Author's Note:  For this story, I used Hiawatha's Wooing from the The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  In the original telling, Hiawatha goes to an old arrow maker to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.  After he agrees, Hiawatha and the daughter, Minnehaha, return to Hiawatha's village, leaving the old arrow-maker.  I decided to tell the story from the arrow-maker's perspective because in the original, he is left all alone when his daughter leaves apparently never to return, and is sad and lonely.  I left mostly everything the same in terms of plot progression, but I left all the names and occupations ambiguous because Hiawatha has a lot of back story and I felt like that would drag down a quick story such as this.  Also, the original doesn't mention the arrow-maker's wife, so I assumed that he is a widower.  I'll probably have to go back through and edit because I was pretty tired writing this.

Bibliography:  The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1855).  Web Source:  Untextbook