It did. It felt too big.
Here’s a short story based on your prompt, “When Dad Is Away II – Kenzie Taylor.”
He pulled her into a hug that smelled like sandalwood and missing time. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You did.”
This time, the trip was three weeks. A consulting emergency in Dubai. Mom tried to keep things normal—spaghetti on Tuesdays, laundry on Sundays—but normal had shifted. Kenzie found herself taking over the small things. She started the coffee maker each morning the way Dad did, even though she didn’t drink coffee. She checked the garage door twice before bed. She sat in his leather armchair one night, just to see if it felt different. When Dad Is Away Ii Kenzie Taylor
The second week, the Wi-Fi router started blinking red. Mom panicked. “Call your father,” she said, handing Kenzie the phone.
That night, she texted Dad: Router fixed. You’re welcome.
When Dad finally came home—tired, smelling of airport coffee and cheap plane blankets—he dropped his bag in the hall and looked around. The house was clean. The plants were watered. The router was green. It did
She didn’t text Dad. She didn’t want him to worry from half a world away. Instead, she whispered to Leo, “We’re the backup crew, remember? We’ve got this.”
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
Kenzie leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a small smile on her face. “I did.” “Yeah,” he said quietly
She smiled, then hated how much she needed the words.
Kenzie Taylor knew it well. The long-haul flights, the hotel keys piling up in his nightstand drawer, the voicemails he’d leave at odd hours— “Hey, kiddo, just landed in Singapore. Tell your brother to behave.” The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of small, sharp things: Mom humming too loudly in the kitchen, the dryer squeaking because Dad wasn’t there to fix it, and the way the stairs didn’t creak at 6:15 PM when he came home from work.
The third week, a storm rolled in. Not the gentle spring rain kind, but the kind that rattled windows and made the power flicker. Mom lit candles. Kenzie’s little brother, Leo, climbed into her bed without asking. She let him. Outside, wind tore through the oaks Dad had planted the year she was born. Inside, Kenzie held Leo’s hand and counted between thunderclaps.