Five years old, not a care in the world. Nope, you'd think my life was going just fine. I was a bright kid, I had friends, I had parents who loved me; my life would've been perfect. That is, if there wasn't always an argument going on.

We lived in a decent house for the neighborhood we were in, seeing as we lived by Eight Mile. "We" includes my mom, my dad and me. A nice family. I was about four when we moved from Pennsylvania. I was so young that I don't remember much, but I've been told plenty of stories. "You know Daddy and I both love you very very much," I remember my mom telling me when I was a little older and understood more. "We tried to make things work for you, but there was too much fighting going on and it wasn't a healthy environment for a little girl to grow up in." This was basically the answer I got every time I asked about my parents before their divorce. It was nice knowing that they wanted to make things work for me.

When they got divorced, my mom and I moved in with another guy. It was strange at first because it was a new house, new neighborhood, and new guy. The only things that stayed the same were my cat, Foxy, and my mom. I remember the very first night at the new house. Rick, the guy we moved in with, had a big bed that I shared with my mom until I was comfortable enough to sleep in that house alone. Rick's room had skylights so I could watch the stars and moon while I tried falling asleep. I loved the bed, but I didn't want to be in a house with a strange guy I didn't really know at all. Since I wasn't in school quite yet, I went to a babysitter's while my mom and Rick were at work. My babysitter had a couple kids of her own; one was a girl who was a few years older and a boy about my age. They were nice, I like going over there but I missed my mom.

The day I remember as though it were yesterday, was when my dad came over and told me he was moving back to Pennsylvania. We were sitting on the couch. I was in my favorite outfit - a pink t-shirt and light blue jeans - and he gave a big hug. "You know I love you, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you," he told me. "As you know, you're the only family I have here and it's hard because even adults need their family. So I'm moving back to Pennsylvania."

I could feel the tears filling in my eyes. I couldn't believe I was losing my dad. I guess I wasn't really losing him; I just wouldn't get to see him very much. "Why do you have to go, Daddy?" I was in full tears now, crying into his shoulder. My wavy brown hair stuck to my face.

He hugged me even tighter and whispered in my ear, "I know it'll be hard; I'm going to miss you very very much, but I need my other family. We can talk on the phone every day. You can come visit me for the entire summer and at Christmas time."

Him telling me that made me feel a little better. I sniffed in his shoulder, looked at him and said "Okay, Daddy," I was wondering, 'where would he stay? Why couldn't he just stay here with me; why wasn't I enough for him? I mean I was his daughter after all.'

"Don't forget I was always always love you. No matter how far away I am, I'll always be right here," he told me while pointing to his chest, where his heart is.

"I love you too, Daddy," I gave him a big hug and started to cry some more. 'What would happen to us? Would we still be as close? Or would we stop talking and I'd never see him again?' I couldn't help but think of a ton of situations that might happen because of him moving.
I went from seeing him only on the weekends and one day of the week, to only seeing him in the summer and some Christmases. It was going to be hard. Little girls need their Daddies. I especially needed him.

About a month later was when he actually moved. When he moved, I would cry almost every night just knowing my dad was so far away. He moved in with his sister, and he called as soon as he got settled in. I was relieved when he called me and I knew he was safe. From then on, we talking every night. Summer time became my favorite time of the year. I got to see him every summer for the whole summer. My Dad was the most important person in my life at the time. That is, until my little brother was born, but that's another story.