My Daughter Took My Hand After School and Said, “Mom, Divorce Dad — He Doesn’t Love Us.” That Night, Over One Chicken Leg, I Finally Listened

Not ever.”

“Can we leave?” she asked, so quietly I almost missed it.

“Yes, baby,” I said.

“We can.”

“Where are we going?”

I smoothed her soft hair back from her damp forehead.

“Somewhere you can eat all the chicken legs you want, and nobody will ever raise their voice at you for it.”

She was quiet for a moment.