There is a wedding on Saturday.

In navy blue dresses my girls will stand in front of friends and family as they watch their father marry.

I want to be there,

to curl Sidney’s hair;

whisper words of encouragement in Audrey’s ear before her toast and

cuddle Ellery when half way through the evening her legs grow tired of dancing.

Saturday is important to them.

But, no matter how good the relationship is between their dad and I, there are simply days when the past does not get to participate in the present.

There is sadness in the missing of the moment.

When Sunday night arrives and they scamper though our front door, the moments will have become memories. Memories made without me present.

And that is the reality of divorce.

I won’t linger there long in my own sorrow.

Instead we will make ice cream tonight, watch the sunset and talk about all the fun they will have this weekend.

When our eyes grow heavy, we will climb under my blankets and I will wrap them in my love.

And in that I will find my joy.


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