The Crate in the Parking Lot
A man who was physically absent from his own house every single evening for six years, who came home at eleven-forty at night, and who stood in a doorway looking at five sleeping girls and one awake one for about ninety seconds and then went to bed.
People say: you never missed a recital.
I missed almost all of them.
I missed Ines’s entire third-grade year of soccer.
I missed six of Teddy’s eight middle-school choir concerts.
I have been to exactly two of the fourteen band events Solveig played in.
Here is the ledger, honestly.
The things I did not miss: every parent-teacher conference, because those are in the morning and I made them a rule.