SUNDAY AT 6:00 P.M.

Dear Delyara, Every divorced father knows what Sunday at six means. The backpacks are zipped. The favorite stuffed animal is found. The half-finished science project is carried carefully to the car. Someone suddenly needs the bathroom. Someone asks why Mom and Dad cannot live together “just on weekends.” Then you drive your children to another house. My daughter forgot her purple sock in my dryer today. Just one sock. I found it after they left. I held it longer than any grown man should hold a sock. The apartment changes after they go. The refrigerator hum gets louder. The couch cushions stay exactly where I put them. No one leaves wet towels on the floor, and I would give anything to trip over one. People tell me to enjoy my free week. They say it like freedom is the opposite of love. I placed the purple sock on my daughter’s pillow so it will be waiting next Friday. Six days from now. I have already counted the hours.