A little crooked heart had been drawn beside my name.
I opened it.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper covered in pencil marks.
I read the first sentence.
Dear Daddy, I know you're busy, but can you please come home early one day?
My eyes filled immediately.
I unfolded another.
Dear Dad, Patricia says I make too many mistakes. I'm trying to be good. Please don't be disappointed in me.
Another.
Daddy, I miss when we used to eat breakfast together.
Then another.
Please don't tell Patricia I wrote this. She says I make things harder for everybody.
My hands began shaking.
There were letters dated across more than a year.
Some contained little drawings.
Others were only a few lines long.
A few had been written so carefully that I could tell Sophia had erased and rewritten words until the paper nearly tore.
I reached deeper into the box.
Near the bottom, beneath several old photographs and school papers, lay a folded sheet with purple stars drawn around the edges.
I recognized it.
Sophia had decorated the same kind of paper for my birthday the previous year.
I opened it.
The message inside was written in uneven pencil.
Daddy, I know Mommy is in heaven. I know you're working hard. I promise I will try not to be trouble. But sometimes I feel like you don't want me anymore.
I stopped breathing.
My eyes blurred.
I looked toward Sophia.
She stood beside the closet door, watching me with an expression I will never forget.
Hope.
Fear.
And the desperate uncertainty of a child who had spent months trying to get her father's attention.
"Did you write all these?" I whispered.
Sophia nodded.
I looked at the box again.
There were so many letters.
So many attempts to reach me.
So many moments when my daughter had apparently believed that if she found the right words, I might finally understand.
I covered my mouth.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Then a voice spoke from behind us.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
I turned.
Patricia stood in the bedroom doorway.
She was holding her handbag.
Her eyes moved from Sophia to the open box.
And the confident smile she wore when she first entered disappeared completely.
Patricia's eyes settled on the letters spread across the closet floor.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then she looked directly at Sophia.
"What have you done?"
My daughter immediately stepped backward.
The fear returned to her face so quickly that I felt sick.
I rose from the floor and moved between them.
"Don't speak to her like that."
Patricia looked stunned.