He’s a good dad, too. He’s always treated me like an adult, even when I was a kid – not that I wasn’t allowed to be a kid, because that wouldn’t be true. He’s always respected my opinions and taken them seriously, even when I was 5.
I just don’t know what to talk to him about. I mean, right now, he’s out in the living room, and I’m in here, typing. We’ve spent a lot of time alone this weekend, too, which is nice, but it’s also punctuated by lots of silences, which I’m prone to, and I suppose he is too.
I just wonder when we drew apart. We used to be able to talk about a lot of things. I guess most of it begun when he married Sue. Sue tries to be a good person, but she’s never had kids, and she’s a little controlling, and she can’t stand silence. She hates silence so much that she points out every obvious thing on the road to the theater, and repeats information my dad has already told me.
It’s been difficult for both my sister and I to be around her, and thus, also my dad, which means we’ve grown apart.
I’m also slightly jealous of my sister; she gets to go hiking and do outdoorsy stuff with him. I’m not here long enough to do that, and my dad doesn’t think of me as the outdoorsy type – that’s my sister. I know I could suggest we go hiking, and maybe next time I’m down here I will; he just plans different things for me.
I do love him. I wish, sometimes, that I could be 8 years old and roughhousing with my dad. Or I could be 13 and be daddy’s girl, helping him install a light fixture. I miss that closeness.