The first extended family gathering to which I brought D., my soon-to-be-stepdaughter, was so large it required renting a conference room in a Marriott Hotel. I count scores of aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides—the result of tight-knit families from my grandparents’ generation who all lived and worked and reared children within blocks of each other, and sometimes in the same house. This particular event was a Passover Seder for my mother’s family. Her uncles and aunts used to take turns hosting, but with subsequent generations traveling thousands of miles instead of a couple of blocks, a one-off meal in a hotel became more manageable for all involved.
I was as excited to bring D. to the Seder as if I had given birth to her myself and was presenting a newborn for the first time. I knew that whispers and speculation about my divorce had circulated throughout the family, as these things always do, especially since my own daughter, T. was just three years old when we split. It was a salve to my ego that instead of appearing at the Seder diminished, missing a member of my own clan, I had multiplied to become a family of four. The girls looked adorable; my fiancé and I watched them run around the hotel lobby shrieking happily as we held hands and sipped cocktails.
A giant marble fountain dominated the center of the lobby, spraying water high in the air out of an ostentatiously carved phalanx of dolphins. The girls adored it, and kept dipping their hands in the water when they thought we weren’t paying attention. A woman not part of our gathering threw a few coins in the basin for luck. D. and T. looked at her, then ran over to us. D. pulled on my arm.
“Anne, can we have some coins to throw in the fountain to make a wish? Please?”
I was flattered that D. came to me with her request and not to her father. We still operated primarily on two parallel tracks with the children: my daughter and I were a unit; D. and her father were a unit. Both girls were four and a half, and we didn’t want them to force affection if it wasn’t there. So the fact that D. ran to me, looked up at me with her beseeching brown eyes, was thrilling. The rush of warmth that her acceptance brought, especially in this large family setting, surprised me with its intensity. I dug through my purse for nickels to give the girls. D. grabbed my hand (another thrill!) and brought me with them to the fountain.
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