It was a weekend in 1986, maybe '85. My parents were not quite divorced, just separated for the second time. The divorce was in the works. My dad had moved out and he was living in an apartment by himself. My sister and I were headed there for the weekend. He came to pick us up in his little Toyota Corolla, and we hopped in. Later Dad would move to Manhattan, but for now he was still living only a short drive away. I was missing him. The car ride to his apartment was filled with conversation about school and what we'd been up to. I had become uncharacteristically quiet as I listened to the radio. Stevie Wonder was singing his tune, "I Just Called to Say I Love You." I was singing along in my head.
Dad? I said.
Yes, he responded.
How come you never call just to say "I love you?" I really put him on the spot. I didn't mean to.
I don't know, LJ. You know I love you, right? He was concerned.
Yes, of course. I said back.
It wasn't as if we didn't talk almost every night. It would be a little weird for him to call just to say those three words, because we usually talked about everything. Looking back I realize I just needed the reassurance he was thinking about me, even when I wasn't with him- a little insecurity, I guess. The next week, my dad called just to say I love you. Parents can get divorced and still do all the right things. My parents did, at least in my eyes. I'm grateful for both of them.
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