I have a goddaughter.
I know, I've never mentioned her.
I don't have a picture to show you.
I haven't seen her in a long time and it hurts.
This is hard to talk about, I really wanted to be part of her life, and now due to circumstances I can't control, I don't even know where she is.
I had this friend, back in the day, I'll call her Gina. Gina was pretty, funny, smart. I'm not sure where exactly the breakdown in the system was, but Gina just stopped being smart when it came to men. There were a lot of them, and they weren't good ones.
Not for lack of options. Plenty of nice men would gladly have loved her.
Gina got married to a marine. He was not the worst of her choices, certainly, but he could have used some growing up. Gina got pregnant and had a beautiful baby girl, Hannah Elizabeth. I was her godmother, and I took it seriously. With a pair of way-too-young parents, I knew she'd need someone like me. I was in, for the whole nine yards.
Gina and her husband had issues from day one. Gina eventually ran off with someone that I vaguely knew. Her husband never forgave me for happening to know the guy that she ran off with, and accused me of aiding and abetting them.
He got Hannah.
He took her home to Texas, last I heard, and I'm NOT invited to contact them.
Hannah is six now. There is no way she could know that I'm out there, that I'd start a college fund for her, and color pictures with her, and push her on the swings until she giggled from the heady feeling of flying so high on a swing that you bounce out of the seat a little, that I'd listen to her secret crushes and buy her frilly little girl dresses and cowboy boots and carry her on my shoulders and frame her artwork and build tree forts with her and remember her favorite color and buy her a canopy bed like every little girl wants and always have stickers and skittles for her in my purse and buy her the cool bandaids with Dora the Explorer or the Wiggles or whatever she wanted when she scrapped her little knees and take her to the fair and go roller skating with her and swing her around until she laughed and love her madly even when she was whiny or crying or rebellious.
Every time I think of her, I feel as thought I've failed her.
But I did buy her her first barbie doll, when she was 8 days old. I acted quickly, and I'll always have that.
Last time I saw her, she looked like me.
But she'll never remember me.
I know, I've never mentioned her.
I don't have a picture to show you.
I haven't seen her in a long time and it hurts.
This is hard to talk about, I really wanted to be part of her life, and now due to circumstances I can't control, I don't even know where she is.
I had this friend, back in the day, I'll call her Gina. Gina was pretty, funny, smart. I'm not sure where exactly the breakdown in the system was, but Gina just stopped being smart when it came to men. There were a lot of them, and they weren't good ones.
Not for lack of options. Plenty of nice men would gladly have loved her.
Gina got married to a marine. He was not the worst of her choices, certainly, but he could have used some growing up. Gina got pregnant and had a beautiful baby girl, Hannah Elizabeth. I was her godmother, and I took it seriously. With a pair of way-too-young parents, I knew she'd need someone like me. I was in, for the whole nine yards.
Gina and her husband had issues from day one. Gina eventually ran off with someone that I vaguely knew. Her husband never forgave me for happening to know the guy that she ran off with, and accused me of aiding and abetting them.
He got Hannah.
He took her home to Texas, last I heard, and I'm NOT invited to contact them.
Hannah is six now. There is no way she could know that I'm out there, that I'd start a college fund for her, and color pictures with her, and push her on the swings until she giggled from the heady feeling of flying so high on a swing that you bounce out of the seat a little, that I'd listen to her secret crushes and buy her frilly little girl dresses and cowboy boots and carry her on my shoulders and frame her artwork and build tree forts with her and remember her favorite color and buy her a canopy bed like every little girl wants and always have stickers and skittles for her in my purse and buy her the cool bandaids with Dora the Explorer or the Wiggles or whatever she wanted when she scrapped her little knees and take her to the fair and go roller skating with her and swing her around until she laughed and love her madly even when she was whiny or crying or rebellious.
Every time I think of her, I feel as thought I've failed her.
But I did buy her her first barbie doll, when she was 8 days old. I acted quickly, and I'll always have that.
Last time I saw her, she looked like me.
But she'll never remember me.
2 Comments:
:hugs:
that's really sad...*more hugs*
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