I rarely envy anyone. Honestly, I look at people some consider enviable, and I know they have some secret in their lives that I don’t wish to share. I’m better off with my own secrets. (Although, for some small time in Junior High School, I envied a girl called Lindy Amos — she did seem so together — for a 13 year old, anyway).

Lately, however, I’ve noticed the cousin of the green-eyed monster entering my thoughts.

I’ve been envying my friends with fathers. A few weeks ago a friend had a barbecue and her father drove several hours to pick up specially marinated meat and bring it to her house. Now, we know that only a man with completely single-minded determination — would spend an entire day getting beef. But, I can only imagine the love of a man who thinks — ah my daughter needs beef — and dedicates his entire day to the pursuit. Now, the beef was good, but it’s that kind of relationship that I envy.

Another friend recently moved back to her hometown, Los Angeles, from years in New York City. After she purchased her first house, her father immediately came over to make necessary repairs. He’s there when her car breaks down — even if only to take her to the mechanic, and he’s there when she’s sick.

Many studies talk about how girls relationships with their fathers shape their lives. For years, I didn’t really give it much credence. I didn’t have a dad who was really there, but I had a mother, a grandmother, a family, I graduated, got married, didn’t get pregnant as a teen-ager. I thought that I was okay.

It’s only later that I realize what I missed, or what I’m missing out on. And for the first time, I realize that I’m missing something. It’s intangible, but its absence is being felt.

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