"That, Mia, is perhaps the most delicious-looking pie I have ever seen," my dad told me as I presented him a mud pie. He brushes my wispy brown hair out of my tiny five-year-old face. Mom watches from the kitchen window. She's been getting quiet lately. I didn't piece it together until after.

I giggle. "You think so, Daddy?"

He smiles and lifts me up. "Anything my baby girl does is the best."

I laugh once more and wrap my pudgy arms around his neck. He kisses my cheek. "I'm always here for you, Mia, love. Never forget that."

After that, he only talked to me at dinner- when he showed up. He was "caught up by work" a lot of the time. 

I thought it was me.

I never figured out why he left.