Sarah slid her homework over. “Dad, can you check my math before I go? Nora says you’re good with numbers, but I think she’s just being nice.”
I made a show of peering over my glasses. “I’ll have you know, I was almost a mathlete in high school.”
We both laughed. It felt easy, natural. But some mornings, I caught her glancing at the door, like she was waiting for someone else to join us.
“Dad, can you check my math before I go?”
“Is Nora coming for breakfast?” she asked.
“Not today, kiddo.” I flipped a pancake and tried not to sound disappointed. “It’s just us. Like old times.”
She grinned. “Good. Your pancakes are better anyway.”
And for a minute, it felt like everything was exactly where it belonged.
***
If anyone asked, I’d say I’d always dreamed of being a dad. But the truth is, the universe handed Sarah to me the long way around.
I’d always dreamed of being a dad.
My first wife, Susan, and I adopted because we couldn’t have kids of our own. When we brought Sarah home as a toddler, my heart cracked open and remade life in an instant.
After my wife passed away, I clung to Sarah like a life raft.
We figured out how to be a family of two.
I met Nora at a friend’s cookout two summers ago. She had everyone roaring by imitating the host’s poodle, down on all fours, barking in a perfect falsetto.
We figured out how to be a family of two.
