I was about four.
I was sitting on a little chair at a little table in kindergarten.
The day had been long and boring, just like always.
Then everything changed.
The teachers started running around.
They pulled me from one place to another.
I was pushed into a chair, and my main course and dessert were placed in front of me at the same time.
Because I wasn't eating fast enough, the enormous cook sat down opposite me on a tiny children's chair.
She said, "Your dad came to pick you up," and began shoveling mashed potatoes and dessert into my mouth, one spoon after another.
I didn't understand what she had said.
I tried to swallow quickly, because there wasn't time to chew.
I didn't know if I had done something wrong.
Another teacher came beside me
and hurried me along.
I swallowed everything I could.
The main course and the dessert, mixed together.
Without chewing.
Someone held a glass to my mouth.
The liquid went up my nose.
I didn't dare cough.
I bravely swallowed everything that was pushed into my face.
They washed my face.
They pulled bits of food out of my hair.
It hurt.
Then they led me into the hallway.
It was perhaps the greatest surprise I have ever received.
My father was there.
Waiting for me.
It was the only time.
It had never happened before.
I thought I might faint from happiness.
Or at least wet myself like an excited puppy.
I remember how suddenly everything became sunny and wonderful.
My father was distant, but kind.
I saw him only rarely.
But whenever I did, he was always kind.
To me, he was something great and beautiful.
He tried to dress me.
It didn't go very well.
I could have done it myself.
But being taken care of
felt so good.
Then I became afraid he would get tired and leave.
So I dressed myself.
I could already see us walking hand in hand.
Doing wonderful things together.
Laughing together.
He took me straight home.
And left me there.
The disappointment was enormous.
I decided to believe he had simply been busy.
After all, I was his own beloved daughter.
He would come back for me.