"Dad, are you old?"
Che's suddenly squatting in the kitchen floor staring at me intensely, her eyes the size of large white moons with singular circular oceans of the deepest blue, expressing grave wonderment.
"Why?"
Shutting the fridge, I cannot fathom how she went so quickly from laughingly hugging my legs as we pack her lunch to demanding a reality check.
"Because your hair's grey and you bend down slow," she answers matter-of-factly.
"I do not" I challenge.
Joyfully she jumps up and counts.
1 ... 2 ... THREE!!!!
She beats me by a mile.
"See," she grins. "Can I have Ice Cream?"
"You can have anything you want," I answer, still getting up.
She watches videos on the sofa in the candlelit living room while I finish her lunch and scoop Moose-tracks then sit beside her.
She slurps while we cuddle.
"Let's color Dad," she suggests afterwards.
"Sure," I grin. "You get everything and I'll meet you back here."
She skips away and I quickly head outside to smoke a bowl.
Back on the sofa we color for half-an-hour.
Coloring is a pretty exciting journey when you're high.
"Let's save these for Mom," Che concludes and we put everything away.
Later, struggling to take sips of coffee, Sarah gushes over our art when Che erupts into a sobbing, angry groan and rips the page I'd colored into pieces.
We watch in disbelieving silence, Sarah still seated at the table with Clare while I'm standing in the kitchen.
A moment of silence ends abruptly, Sarah and I quickly alternating questioning looks at one another and our "Love Child."
Che scampers down, darts across the room and latched on to my legs, hugging them tightly.
Standing upright, suddenly serious, the two moons with the deep blue oceans lock into mine and with the upmost empathy asks, "How are you feeling Daddy?"
Then she hugs me tightly, has me pick her up so she can throw her arms around my neck and hugs me even tighter.
"Time to do your hair," Sarah sings and Che slowly lets me go and follows her Mom.
"We're all dealing with everything in our own ways," Sarah sighs after Che's at Pre-K.
"Yeah," I nod. "She was just letting it out."
"Yeah," Sarah says, holding my hand.
"Why?"
Shutting the fridge, I cannot fathom how she went so quickly from laughingly hugging my legs as we pack her lunch to demanding a reality check.
"Because your hair's grey and you bend down slow," she answers matter-of-factly.
"I do not" I challenge.
Joyfully she jumps up and counts.
1 ... 2 ... THREE!!!!
She beats me by a mile.
"See," she grins. "Can I have Ice Cream?"
"You can have anything you want," I answer, still getting up.
She watches videos on the sofa in the candlelit living room while I finish her lunch and scoop Moose-tracks then sit beside her.
She slurps while we cuddle.
"Let's color Dad," she suggests afterwards.
"Sure," I grin. "You get everything and I'll meet you back here."
She skips away and I quickly head outside to smoke a bowl.
Back on the sofa we color for half-an-hour.
Coloring is a pretty exciting journey when you're high.
"Let's save these for Mom," Che concludes and we put everything away.
Later, struggling to take sips of coffee, Sarah gushes over our art when Che erupts into a sobbing, angry groan and rips the page I'd colored into pieces.
We watch in disbelieving silence, Sarah still seated at the table with Clare while I'm standing in the kitchen.
A moment of silence ends abruptly, Sarah and I quickly alternating questioning looks at one another and our "Love Child."
Che scampers down, darts across the room and latched on to my legs, hugging them tightly.
Standing upright, suddenly serious, the two moons with the deep blue oceans lock into mine and with the upmost empathy asks, "How are you feeling Daddy?"
Then she hugs me tightly, has me pick her up so she can throw her arms around my neck and hugs me even tighter.
"Time to do your hair," Sarah sings and Che slowly lets me go and follows her Mom.
"We're all dealing with everything in our own ways," Sarah sighs after Che's at Pre-K.
"Yeah," I nod. "She was just letting it out."
"Yeah," Sarah says, holding my hand.
