On Sunday, I sent my little girl off to visit her dad in another state for a few months. My hubby tried to make me feel better by suggesting that editing book two and working hard on promotional efforts for Ruby Among Us would help pass the time.
I suppose he is right, but I would have much preferred to work part-time this summer and spend the rest of it at the pool, the park, and gardening in the back yard with my daughter and her brothers like I did last year.
Last night, after she was gone, my husband took one of my stepsons to baseball practice while the other helped me finish the garden. The tomato plants were crowding out of their containers and their peat pots were disintegrating, so we needed to get them in as soon as we could. Until last night, we hadn’t really had time to finish the gardening due to book signings and trying to spend extra time with their sister.
We really did have fun digging in the dirt for awhile and planting the plants my daughter helped us start from seed, but as we chatted and worked I knew he would have had more fun if his sister had been there and not just me. If she had been with us, her busy and creative personality would have made it seem more like we were playing and not working. Eventually I let him go off to play with his kick ball, wishing he had someone to play with.
This morning, as I tip-toed around and whispered to my husband who was getting ready for work, it occurred to me there was no reason to be so quiet. The boys had already gone to their other home for the week and wouldn’t be home until Friday. My daughter was at her dad’s and would be gone much longer. I could slam doors and talk loudly if I wanted to.
I did want to slam some doors as tears welled up and I realized that this is the price of marriages and lives gone wrong as they dipped into the valley. We do what we can to stay up now that our lives are filled with joy and we have all found each other, but some things will always be there like a ghost whispering of the past.
I know she will be having a blast with her dad. We will write each other letters, she’ll call me every day and we’ll talk so long that I’ll have to make her get off the phone for bed time. Two months is really not that long. Right? By August this will have passed and we will be together again, until the next time.
by Tina Ann Forkner