Chipmunks and Caesar Salad ala Sandie

Tonight, the kid and I ate Caesar salad and watched the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. Life's been throwing illness, obligations and custody snafus at us lately, so it was the first time in a while we've been able to just hang out. I particularly enjoyed the evening because I could tell that my daughter, too, particularly enjoyed the evening.

There was a point six months ago that my time with her terrified me. When she was around, personal development and post-marriage healing skidded to a halt as I made damn sure I was being the best possible dad at every moment which, at the time, I don't think I was succeeding at.

But we've hit a groove. It's hard to explain, but now I'm finding that personal development and healing peak when she's around. It's as if I spent years trying to be her dad only to learn that I don't need to do that. I am her dad.

As I said, we had Caesar salad for dinner. It's a meal I've avoided making all year because it's one of Sandie's signature dishes, something she's spent years perfecting. At one point several months ago, after an especially weird divorce-related, moderated meeting, she invited me over to have Caesar salad with her and my daughter in what was a genuinely kind gesture. You have no fucking idea how badly I wanted to go "home" and eat with them, but I said no, making up the excuse that it would confuse the kid. The truth is, I would have found it less painful and conflicting had she proposed a quickie in the broom closet.

Anyway, tonight I made Caesar salad. It was just okay. I burned the croutons and added too much mustard. It's a dish that requires subtlety, balance and grace, none of which I possess as a cook. I'm pretty good in the kitchen, mind you, but I'm all about flare and ginger, heartburn and capers.

I mused about this with my daughter. The conversation lead the skills people have. She inquired about my skills. I told her I was a decent writer, I could surf, paint silly pictures and fix toys. I then went on to explain that her mother could do math, listen to people's problems, sing and dance. I asked her what her skills were. She got a bit stuck so I helped her out with a giant list of things she was already good at.

There was a point when I couldn't have a conversation like this. Then there was a point when this conversation would have driven me to instant tears. Then there was a point when I would have listed Sandie's skill set somewhat differently and reserved the conversation for bars and therapy couches.

But tonight, it was a fond remembrance. I waited for remorse to wash over me as I ate my crappy salad but it never came. Those were good salad years and I'll miss them, but I don't want them back.

Nights like tonight, however, I never want to end.

(and, for the record, yes I cried during Alvin and the Chipmunks, damnit.)