MARLOW
On Saturday morning, I have energy to burn and Dakota is hyper too.
The fall colors have already started to show up and I love how vibrant everything looks. The cooler temps compared to what I’m used to in Texas around this time of year are also nice. I won’t know what I’ll do with all the snow this winter, but I’ll worry about that when the time comes.
“How about we go for a walk before we go out with the girls?” I check the clock and there’s plenty of time since we’re up early.
“Yes!” Dakota yells, running to put on her shoes.
“Oh, you’re ready right now.” I laugh. “Okay, one sec.”
I go into the bedroom and put a bra on under the T-shirt I was already wearing and change from my shorts to my yoga pants.
Dakota is singing by the door and bounces from foot to foot as she waits for me to get my tennies on.
“Where are we going?” she asks when we step outside.
“How about we walk to Heritage Lane and get something at Happy Cow?”
“I love Happy Cow!” she says.
We start walking, Dakota happily singing next to me. I take a deep breath and it feels so cleansing, I wish I’d done this days ago. I’ve had all this pent-up energy since Maggie called a few days ago.
The one good thing that came out of the call is that she let me know that her dad is friends with the lawyers and the judges in the county where I filed for divorce, so in her words, he’s “pulling strings” to make it go as fast as possible. I guess Sutton was onto something.
Maggie is so eager to be with Cash and I can’t be divorced soon enough.
Dakota takes my hand when we get to Heritage Lane and then skips as we walk toward Happy Cow.
“What are you gonna get, Mama?”
“Hmm. I think I need a bear claw. I sure hope they have them! What are you getting?”
“Welllll…I would like a jelly donut and…that one thing that has the chocolate inside.”
“A chocolate croissant?”
“Yes, a chocolate crossy…”
I smile and absolutely do not correct her because she so rarely says her cute versions of words anymore. “Anything else?”
“Yes. And a donut with sprinkles and a donut with the white stuff.”
“Powdered sugar?”
“Yes, that.”
I grin at her. “Sounds like we need to fill a box.”
“Yes! Fill a box!” she says, jumping up and down.
She fills my heart with such happiness, so much love that I don’t even know what to do with it all. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to know her, much less her own father.
She’s been mentioning him more lately. I guess we all start out believing the best in our parents. At first, I thought she might not even miss him, that maybe she hadn’t had him around long enoughtomiss him.
He’d leave before she got up, come home after she went to bed, and on the occasions he was around when she was awake, he wasn’t present. He was on his phone, watching TV…doing just about anything to avoid interacting with his daughter. I gave him a pass initially because, growing up, he didn’t have a great example of loving parents. They lived in Arkansas and in the four years we were married, they came for two visits, and we visited them once. There was a general feeling of indifference from them, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to me that their son was the same.
My parents were another breed altogether.