Step-daughter

She sits beside me in

the car,

“I hate you.”

It’s that type of car ride.

Angry, sad,

She glares                                                                     ahead  as I

Tighten my grip on the wheel.

I am a man with an (unclear role) specific title:

Step-Father.

 

Thrown together,

She had 8 years without me.

I have 8 years to catch up on, but,

Now she is 12.

“I hate you.”

 

I have some homework to do.

 

She has both her mother and her father within her.

None of me.

I love her because of it.

She is my little stranger, sitting beside me.

She grabs my hand and holds it as tight as she can,

“I love you.”

We both have some homework to do.

Yet, I think we are getting by alright.

 

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About ponderingmoon

Educational Support Worker in Salmon Arm, writer, martial artist, and more importantly Father and Husband. View all posts by ponderingmoon

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