Daddy Cries
I’m sorry, Daddy admits after school in his truck. I’m so sorry, and then as if he were a little boy who just fell off his bike, he hit the steering wheel and wept. I’ve never seen my Daddy cry and I don’t know what to do.
He won’t live with me any longer. I know I won’t see him as much anymore. He’ll pack up all of his clothes. All of his possessions. He’ll take all of them and leave. A kiss on my rosy cheek and a hug and he’ll be off. Off to his new home. His only home. He’ll be gone.
I’m his only daughter. His only child. I’ll be affected the most. My mother is happy. My father is apologetic. I’m heart broken. When old friends come to visit I’ll have to explain. Make up a fib as to why Daddy isn’t here.
Daddy is strong. A short and solid man. He wears work boots hidden by dirt. His shirts have the sleeves ripped off and are covered by blotches of grey cement. Up and packed for a day of construction and out the door as I wake from my dreams. Now, he rests his unbrushed head upon his steering wheel.
I think of how sorry I’d be to be leaving my only daughter. My only child. What would I do? What should I do? In all reality, what can I do? I sit in awe as I watch Daddy, and for the first time, he looks weak. I stare as my image of him is blurred and a droplet of salty water slips from my eye. I sit and watch him crying. Watch us crying.
He won’t live with me any longer. I know I won’t see him as much anymore. He’ll pack up all of his clothes. All of his possessions. He’ll take all of them and leave. A kiss on my rosy cheek and a hug and he’ll be off. Off to his new home. His only home. He’ll be gone.
I’m his only daughter. His only child. I’ll be affected the most. My mother is happy. My father is apologetic. I’m heart broken. When old friends come to visit I’ll have to explain. Make up a fib as to why Daddy isn’t here.
Daddy is strong. A short and solid man. He wears work boots hidden by dirt. His shirts have the sleeves ripped off and are covered by blotches of grey cement. Up and packed for a day of construction and out the door as I wake from my dreams. Now, he rests his unbrushed head upon his steering wheel.
I think of how sorry I’d be to be leaving my only daughter. My only child. What would I do? What should I do? In all reality, what can I do? I sit in awe as I watch Daddy, and for the first time, he looks weak. I stare as my image of him is blurred and a droplet of salty water slips from my eye. I sit and watch him crying. Watch us crying.