Just between Dads

At the family barbecue, I couldn't throw a rock without hitting a parent or parental figure.

My in-laws came to watch the show for the first time in years. At one point, I had three women all at one table that were a mother to me in one form or another. My actual mom, my mother-in-law (also named Donna Lee, like my mom) and Rose, my mother's BFF who raised me the first month of my life and off/on throughout my younger years. I am the daughter that Rose never had.

My dad sat on the deck during dinner and during the fireworks, otherwise he was in the house as he should be. My father-in-law watched the baseball game with him and I overheard them each talking smack about Griffey and A-Rod.

Knowing that it was probably my dad's last fireworks, it felt like a cycle had been completed somehow. Sometime during that night, I became part of the Johnson family instead of the Moore family.

Kevin confirmed it when he told me this story, the next day:

"Before my parents left last night, Dad stood behind your dad. He put his hands on his shoulders, leaned down and said something quietly to your dad. I don't know what he said."

I do.

Probably something along the lines of "She'll be fine, we got her." A final reassurance between fathers.