Disclaimer: I don't literally have a kid and I don't want biological children. This is to the little girl, who has an abusive addict of a mother, I care for and call my child. I talked with her today and she's the source of my inspiration for this tidbit.
Dearest Daughter,
How are you? Are you well? A smile crept up your face when I saw you this afternoon, as you jumped on my leg and screamed "Mommy!" I smiled back, playing with your hair. I'm a coward so I say nothing.
I listen to your stories about how you've been causing trouble with your facades again: a Muslim, a snake in the grass, an angel. Old me would've been proud, but I'm older now.
I realize that it's been two years: all the boys in the park have grown beards, there are new kids in their places, my cousin has a job in graphic design, but you made me feel old. You're 7 now, inviting me to your birthday party in August with earnest eyes. I said I'll think about it.
You've become really pretty, with strawberry blonde hair glowing and big black eyes that are reminiscent of a new moon at midnight. You continue to talk my ear off about how you swore out this motherless girl's mum and we giggled. "I hope you apologized."
She shrugs, changing the subject. "The kids here are scared of you, mommy."
"What do you mean? I'm not scary." I give a wide smile. I forgot the rest of me trying to convince her and her asking the now distant kids their opinions. Big flex, I guess.
"Are you a boy?" She asks. I'm a coward. "What makes you think that?" That name of yours was well suited, the namesake of a prophetic moon goddess.
"Your t-shirt." She points at my Captain America sweater and I can't help but laugh. "You know, girls can wear whatever they want."
Maybe I should've told you, you deserve a good father figure as well as a mother figure. Would I be brainwashing you? I'd have to explain why you might change from "mom" to "dad". I can blame them all I want but it doesn't change that I'm a coward.
Lastly, of all the things I want to say, I'm sorry that I forgot about you.
Signed, Dad
YOU ARE READING
Cerulean
Non-FictionMy thoughts, depression and short stories need a place to stay. (Trigger Warning: may potentially contain explicit content such as depression, suicide, substance abuse, etc.)
