My dear little girl. When I imagine your world, I imagine a little
fairy in a pink tent, spangled with stars and glitters. I imagine you wielding
a sparkling wand and turning everything sunny with your smile.
I imagine daddy’s
little girl doing her doll’s hair, leaning against his leg as he works on his
computer. I see you on your daddy’s lap at the steering wheel, delighted that
he’s letting you drive. I see a little face with a mischievous smile – fussing
over food, negotiating for that ice-cream. I see you picking up puzzles, and
paint books, and color pencils from the kids’ corner, with the certainty
and a righteous entitlement that daddy won’t mind spoiling you today. I see
butterflies on your dress and daisies in your hair. I see little hands reaching
out for daddy’s arms in the middle of the night for security and comfort.
My dear
little stepdaughter. I am the reluctant witch, the circumstantial stepmom
whom you, at some point in your life, will have imagined stealing your father
away. Whom you would perhaps know as the woman who crashed your little
world. But I wish I could tell you someday how much I had wished your daddy
could be with you. And how much it tore your daddy apart to leave his innocent
little tinker-bell behind at her mom’s new residence. He could no longer
bear to live with your mother. Why? I wish I could tell. These reasons perhaps you
will never know about your parents, reasons that adults mostly sweep away under
the bed, in closets, diaries or courtrooms; reasons why two married people
sometimes painfully conclude their marriage. They wish they could turn back time,
mend things and compromise, but they realize that is not to be.
You
will perhaps not understand this now. You don’t even understand now when you
see your daddy pulling out of the driveway, tearing himself away from your
innocent face urging him to stay – that he will never come back to your mother’s
house to live. Somewhere your little heart wishes that your fairy godmother
will hear your nightly prayers and bring your parents together. And a few years from now you will learn better prayers.
But, dear child, your parents are both very good people. They would not normally hurt
anyone. Just know that something went wrong, something that they could not
manage – something that broke their hearts beyond repair. They went through
their share of life-changing and life-upsetting experiences, their moments of
whirlpools and doldrums. They tried very hard to stay – to compromise for your
sake. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise. I saw your father weeping
for you. I know how his heart was bleeding – because I have been my daddy’s
little girl too, and still am. Both your parents tried very hard to
forgive themselves for doing this to you, and to their marriage. There’s
repentance. There are tears. There’s loathing for the hurts. There’s respect.
But there’s no turning back.
But my
dear, dear little girl. I promise your daddy will be there for all your
birthdays and convocations, graduation. The world is not a bad place. Your daddy will be there
for you without even you knowing it – making sure that you receive the best of
everything. Your daddy is a good man – he lights up my world – as will the
right man light up yours someday. You will come across all kinds of men, the
ones who will like you and then hurt you, the ones who you must learn to dump
quickly. Learn not to relate these to your parents’ divorce in anyway. It’s a
real world, made of real people. We are complex now – we will de-tangle and be
better connected someday. Here’s a forty-year-old woman who has had her
heart broken by the wrong man! I am speaking to you from the other side of a
hardened life, smitten with experiences. Your father and I were friends for a
long time – we respected each other. And then when your father moved out from
your mom’s life, we fell in love. We were so fiercely similar, madly in love, it was
inevitable.
I pray
that your mommy, daddy and I are able to act as adults, and parent you well and
protect you from believing that relationships don’t last, that men are bad or
divorce is unfair. Your father is an exceptional person. So is your mother.
They were just not meant to be together, at this point in life. But neither regret having you. Because
they both know you will someday fledge into the beautiful woman they imagined
you to be the day you were born.
And perhaps you will understand and forgive me
someday. Even if not, I will always watch you over from behind the shadows.
