era: 1976 (fluffy perm boi)
name: lily
george always had the strangest habits. he would always trace his lanky, strong, calloused fingers in my hair in the middle of the night if he felt helpless or afraid. he would ask for me to face him just so he could feel my breath on his chest at night.
sometimes he would mumble a few songs to me for me. he'd grab his guitar and start strumming along to a song he came up with. i enjoyed it. it helped bring us peace in our large, almost scary mansion, friar park with more than a hundred bedrooms and five bathrooms.
george wouldn't let me sleep until he told me how much he loved me each night. he'd hold me until i fell asleep and then step out to make music in the studio or walk around and explore, make cookies and awake me in the middle of the night to ask how i thought they tasted. of course, they always tasted a bit strange because he didn't know to put eggs in. he was proud of it, and that's all that mattered to me.
i remember after i got pregnant with our first child, george was ecstatic. of course, like any new father, he was nervous. i knew he would be an amazing father, though. throughout my pregnancy, through the hormones and ups and downs, he comforted me. he held me and rubbed my tummy, whispering how excited he was to be a father. i was so happy to finally be starting a family with george, the love of my life.
when we found out it was a girl, he was even more excited. "a little angel!" he exclaimed. he wanted to name her milana, an indian name meaning grace.
he sufficed my cravings, ran to the market to buy me snacks and drinks whenever i asked—which was a lot. i couldn't have asked for a more attentive and caring husband than george at the time. when i went into labour, we rushed to the hospital. he didn't let go of my hand until they took me into the room. milana louise harrison came into the world october ninth at three am. she weighed six pounds and seven ounces with dark brown hair and blue eyes.
george cried the first time he held her, looking down into her eyes with admiration and excitement while she smiled at him. when we took her home, i almost never got to hold her. george was very protective and cautious around her. even when she wasn't around, i caught him looking at the couch before sitting down just in case.
when john, paul and ringo came over to see her when she was a few weeks old, i could tell george was panicking inside. although they had their own children, they were all very nonchalant while holding her.
his eyes raced between me and john when john was swinging her around while everyone laughed. he scooped her back up into his arms and took her somewhere secluded, murmuring something.
i thought he was the best father. he'd sing her to sleep when she couldn't fall asleep, play her the guitar, ask for her opinions on songs even though she couldn't make a full sentence. he loved listening to her babbles and talking back to her. i caught him having a full conversation with her one night. the two were in the exact same position, george reading the newspaper and milana reading a baby book. she spoke gibberish and he replied. they were so adorable.
i'll never forget the day milana took her first steps. he was so encouraging and excited. we ended up crying in a ball of laughter once she walked to him. and her first day of kindergarten. i could tell george was anxious about it. he kept telling her she didn't have to go, they could stay home and play the ukulele together—which he taught her when she was just three years old. she insisted on going. he cried while watching her leave on the school bus.
"our little baby, all grown up!" it was almost a symbol of new beginnings. new friends, music, families to be made.
i just hoped when milana brought her first boyfriend home, he wouldn't be horribly mad.