Once Removed, Never Forgotten

He lives far away, but if you ask her she will say "he doesn't live that far away." This, in a way, is also true. He lives in her heart always. He is, afterall, her father, her "Daddy."

He is hundreds of miles from us, but remains in my daughter's mind a forceful and welcome presence. He is in regular contact with her by phone and by e-mail. She- Hannah, at six, has her own e-mail address. She will often ask, "didja send me any e-mail, Daddy?"

This is my cue, if I haven't checked in the past day or two, to turn on the computer and check in Hannah's mail-box. She will run to me to see what is there.

Many times, her Daddy sends her a "word of the day," it may be "spider monkey," "toucan," or "white tiger." Hannah loves the animal "words." They are accompanied by active links to animal websites. Colorful, magnificent pictures of beautiful wild animals magically appear.

Hannah always requests that I print the pictures, and each picture joins all the others on her bulletin board in her bedroom: Hannah's own cyber-zoo.

Daddy calls Hannah nearly every night. It used to be, as recently as last year, that Hannah would be mostly unresponsive, uttering only monosyllabic responses, or nodding her head in agreement with her father's words, spoken over the phone from many states away, as though he could see Hannah's small frame, with phone pressed to her delicate ear.

Now, Hannah is a wealth of information and news. "Daddy, today I chose not to listen to my teacher so I didn't get a smiley face at school!" She is big into confessions. Not necessarily the naughty confessions of St. Augustine, but the minutia of the days of a vibrant, wonderful six year old with plenty of attitude.

"Daddy, I really don't like Barbie dolls anymore; I am more into transformers!" (hint, hint). All in all, Hannah loves to talk to Daddy. She will stretch out over the comfy chair in our living room, legs propped up on its arm, one of her hands tucked behind her head, the other holding the receiver to ear.

She has the poise of a teenager, at times. The wisdom of an old woman, as well.

"It is time to get ready to go to bed, Hannah!" I say to her, a bit impatiently. "You seem to be getting frustrated, mama!" she responds with a shy smile. Her father is as amazed as I am at her rapid development from baby, to little girl, to the awesome person she is becoming.

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