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Absence makes the heart grow obsessive, or whatever.
She scrunches up her nose and tilts her head to the side. “I don’t know how some girl hasn’t made you hers already.” “She has.” I nudge her. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Mom says there’s lots of feelings inside us and we have to listen for when they need to come out. Happy ones come out more than sad ones, but she says even the sad and angry ones need to get air every once and a while.”
“All I know is there’s no ring on your finger,”—I point out toward the door—“that’s our son, and we have time to make up for. Since the moment I laid eyes on you two, I’ve been all in. I want to make a home for you, be a home for you—and Arthur—the three of us…
“I’m your dad, Arthur. And I haven’t been here, but not because I didn’t want to be, but because I couldn’t find you. I wanted to be with you and your mom so much, and I’m sorry I wasn’t.” Please don’t hate me.
Our journey has been rocky. It’s not the one I would have chosen for us—I hate that we lost years together—but I’d do it three times over if I had to. We found our way back to each other and made this messy life ours. This is our normal.
