The wait for a bus took forever. Buses are always packed on the day of Solem Festum. I didn't want to wait for another bus to come. I held mom's hand and she greeted the jester with a squeeze. Mom sure was a strong woman. There she was lifting Amelie in her arm, me in the other, as she carries the burden of being a widow.
It happened when I was Amelie's age. My little sister was only a newborn. I remember it vaguely. Dad was angry at mom one night. In my room, I laid awake. The noise in the kitchen made it impossible to sleep. My 9-year-old self thought it was a good idea to get involved. I made my way to the kitchen and said something to dad that I shouldn't have. The next thing I knew, dad pushed me to the ground and yelled something I knew he'd regret. His push didn't do much damage, but the aching feeling in my heart did. He was going to leave us, I knew it. After that, I don't recall the rest of the night. All I remember is more screaming, a door slamming, and never seeing dad again.
I hope the choice he made was worth it. I hope that he found something in life more valuable than a wife and two loving daughters. I hope he found that. But, I won't be sorry if he didn't. I won't. It was his decision, not mine. I was wondering for years after, if he would have stayed if I hadn't been so nosy. Couldn't I just stay out of fights like everyone else? I couldn't blame myself, though I did for many years. When I finally realised that there was too much ache for regret, I learned to be okay with my mistake. He wasn't happy with us, so he left. He left. That thought really hurt.
