March. I came home from a four-day exercise and Rebecca’s photographs were no longer in the living room.
They were in the hallway.
Pamela said she had been “opening the room up” for the engagement party and would put them back.
They did not go back.
I did not notice that they did not go back until seven weeks later, and when I did notice, I thought: the hallway is fine.
March, later. Hannah said “sorry” after mentioning her mother at dinner.
Not to me — to the table.
I have gone over this one more than any other.
My daughter apologized for saying her mother’s name in her own house, in front of me, and I did not stop the meal, and I did not ask her why, because I did not want to make a thing of it in front of Pamela.
April. Hannah asked whether she could keep her room “even after.” I said, “Even after what?” and she said “nothing.”
That is the one.
If there is a single moment where a better father catches this, it is that one, and I let it go in about four seconds because I was answering an email.
