KitKat was nowhere in sight. It must have been a half hour. She usually is playing or watching her videos. She was found in our bedroom, sitting on the chair quietly, watching her father sleep.
“What are you doing, KitKat?”
“I am just watching my Dada.”
“OK.” and was left to watch him some more.
What is she seeing? What is she thinking?
Does she know how much he wanted her? Does she know the smile that was on his face when we found out it was another girl? Does she know how he looked when he first laid eyes on her?
Will she remember the jam sessions they used to play? She would play the mini piano and he would play the drums. Will she remember when he would come home from work, she would crawl to the door and stretch her arms out, eyes lit up as he opened the door? Will she remember getting in the car with him and falling asleep as he drove around?
She sits. Carefully. Quietly. Looking. Listening. Loving.