Caroline is a happy kid. She has her friends at daycare, she has my parents, she has my friends, and she has me. Her father is not all that present in her life, but she doesn’t seem to miss that. I guess she hasn’t really ever known anything else.
But she’s only two and a half. Someday, she is going to figure it out. Someday, she is going to see her friends’ families and realize that they are different from hers. Someday, she is going to ask questions.
“Why aren’t you and daddy together?” ”Why isn’t daddy ever around?” ”Why does (friend’s name)’s daddy live with her and mine doesn’t?”
What can I possibly say? In my head, the conversation goes like this…
“Your daddy loves you very much, but he can’t be here the way your friends’ daddies can.” ”Why not, Mommy?” ”Well, he is very busy with his work, and his work needs him to travel all over the world, so he can’t always be right here with you.” (Or, probably, “His work needs him to live far away from us.”) ”He’s gone for his work? What about me? He loves his work more than he loves me?” ”No, of course not, he loves you more than anything.” ”So why isn’t he here?”
If I had answers to these questions, maybe I wouldn’t be divorced.
For now, I think I do a pretty good job of being everything she needs. I try not to worry about the future. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, and all that. But someday… she will need more than just me. She will have a playdate at a house that contains that picture-perfect picket-fence family– the one who walks by us in the park and I look away. And she will start to wonder.
Someday, she will ask.
And I have no idea what I am going to tell her.Add a Comment