The Truth About Lennon

Her lips fall open before tilting upward in a tentative smile that grows as the situation sinks in. Then she rushes past me and heads straight for Lennon.

“Mom, this is Lennon.”

Untangling her fingers from mine, Lennon holds her hand out toward my mother. “It’

s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mom grips Lennon’s hand and tugs her in for a tight hug. Lennon squeaks, but quickly obliges.

“She’s beautiful,” Mom mouths over Lennon’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get cleaned up,” Lennon says. “If I’d known I’d be eating breakfast with you, I certainly would have.”

“Hush.” With both hands on Lennon’s shoulders, Mom pulls back. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

Lennon glances back at me when my mom leads her toward the table and motions for her to sit down. “Lennon, what a beautiful name.”

Lennon beams. “Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham.”

My mother scoffs, waving her off. “Please, call me Diane. Mrs. Cunningham was my mother-in-law, and she wasn’t nearly as cool as I am. Now, tell me about yourself, Lennon. Where are you from? How long have you and Noah been seeing each other?”

“Come on, Mom.” I urge her away from Lennon. “Can we save the third degree for another time?”

“I’m not giving her the third degree,” she admonishes, propping her hands on her hips. “It’s been five years since you’ve brought a woman home. Excuse me if I’m curious about the stunning lady my boy is having relations with.”

“Mother, please!” The woman has no damn filter whatsoever. She’s a grown-up version of Nova.

Lennon laughs. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Daddy!”

Leave it to Nova to barge in at just the right time. She barrels into the room and wraps herself around my leg. Bending down, I scoop her up. Burying my face in her soft curls, I hold her tight.

“Are the cinnamon rolls ready?” she asks. “I’m hungry.”

“I missed you, hungry.” I assault her with a barrage of kisses, and Nova giggles, wriggling in my arms.

“I missed you too, Daddy.”

Nova is growing up way too fast, so I hold on a few seconds longer, enjoying this moment. One of these days she won’t throw herself at me and let me hold her, and I don’t even want to think about what I’ll do then.

When I open my eyes, they instantly find my mother’s. She’s watching us with a gentle smile, likely remembering a young me doing this exact same thing. My father picks that moment to walk into the room. He flings an arm around Mom’s shoulder and kisses her on the cheek, and I’m all but forgotten as they lose themselves in conversation.

This is all it takes. This one moment shines a much-needed light of clarity as I turn to look at Lennon. I will always put Nova first, always, but that doesn’t mean I have to put me last. I want what my parents have. I want someone to stand by me as I raise my daughter, someone to share these moments with me, someone to love. One of these days, I want to sit on my front porch and watch my grandchildren play in the yard, and I want my wife sitting next to me.

I’m not sure if Lennon is that person, but I’d sure as hell like to find out.

Lennon smiles softly, and my heart flips over, but I don’t have long to analyze the feeling because Nova squirms out of my hold and walks straight to Lennon.

“Who are you?”

I take a step forward to intervene when Mom throws an arm out, stopping me. Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head, and I take a deep breath as I watch the little girl who owns every piece of my heart slowly give a tiny chunk of it to Lennon.

“My name is Lennon. What’s your name?” Lennon places her elbows on her knees so she can get down to Nova’s level.

“Nova. I like your skirt.” Nova reaches out and rubs the material. “It’s soft.”

“Thank you. I made it.”