A Hug From Daddy

The green slip-cover was thin.  The nubby texture of the original upholstery bled from underneath.  The room was small despite the warming September sun to lighten it.

It felt like I hadn't left it for weeks.  Bereavement cards scattered the desk's surface.

The TV was on to some placid children's show and Aubrey puttered around toys and books; her slippered two year old toes shuffling atop the waxed pine floor.

Careful not to trip over the area rug, she picked her foot up and held onto the rocking chair's spindles for balance.

Draped across the rocking chair was Rob's BDU shirt -- still starched.  I'd pulled it from his duffle bag -- the one his National Guard unit sent with the Major that was handling the loose ends -- whenever it was that I got it.

I pretended that time didn't exist anymore.  That I had full control over it now.  I could stop it and pretend my husband was still at Cape Cod doing his annual training for the Guard.  I could rewind it to play over the last conversation I had with him.  The one where I told him I was pregnant again.  And put into slow motion his jumping up and down.

Sometimes I selected scenes in the past of vacations we went on or words of love spoken in dark rooms; private jokes that sounded stupid to third parties.

I creaked forward from the couch and picked up his camoed shirt -- swirls of green, brown and tan memories.  I sniffed it and put it on, leaned back and pet the sleeves.  Was I touching him or he touching me?

"Mommy."  Aubrey's voice sharp contrast to Playhouse Disney.

"That's Daddy's."

Did she think I was stealing it, as her Daddy was stolen from her?  Did she think Rob would be mad at me for wearing his clothes?  Was she just stating the facts as she knew them to be true?  It was 'Daddy's'.  But not anymore.

"Would you like to wear it?"

I pulled it off and held it up to her.  She toddled forward, chubby fingers grasping.  I wrapped it around her pink fuzziness.  I was careful not to touch her two short pigtails, lest she remember they were there and pull them out again.

Aubrey turned for appraisal and then crinkled her eyes.

"Mommy, a hug from Daddy!"

Indeed.

My throat constricted and I held my breath so I would not cry.

I took her picture then; getting a hug from Daddy.

~September 2000~