if it quirks..

When it’s bedtime, daddy comes to the door. He won’t go further than the doorway.

He won’t come and touch my forehead or tuck me in the way that mommy does.

He stands awkwardly and says, “Ok, good night.”

With my chin popping out of the covers, I look at his silhouette trying to make out his face.

But all is shadow.

I say, “Good night, I love you daddy.”

The air shivers with silence as he shifts before responding,

“Ok.”

He turns and walks away to his room.

//

When you’re a kid, you can’t understand fully the hurt that a parent may be going through.

But you can understand that something is wrong.

And I slept fitfully asking what I could do to get more than just an ‘ok’