Friday, October 19, 2007
Where is Daddy
She drives the Jeep with the yellow ribbon into the driveway and carries a four-year-old towheaded little boy who is fast asleep into the house. A couple of minutes later, she reappears and bends over to retrieve another sleeping child, this one looks about two. The garage door slowly rolls down, and I think how many times this little scenario plays out each evening in the suburbs and homes of America.
While any mom worth her salt lugs sacks of groceries and the dead weight of sleeping kiddos with the best of ’em, in our family this duty always fell to dad.
Here, though, the task falls on mom. She is now in reality a “single mom” who is alone in the evening caring for her two young boys while daddy serves his country in Iraq. During the days now, their yard is devoid of the sounds of giggles and shouts of “Daaaaaad!”
A couple of houses up the street, I hear a loud ruckus and see several children pounding at the door. “Daddy, daddy,” they shout as daddy comes to the door and goes out to play.