Every day after school, I call my dad in Southern California to let him know how my life is going. For the past four years, my responsibility as a daughter to keep my father a top priority in my life has become overwhelming. I saw my dad every day, so I did not worry about whether I talked to him enough.

It was never a problem. Then the divorce happened.

When I was 10 years old, my mother told me she would be moving out. I was taken by complete surprise; I never saw my parents fight, or even argue. We ate dinner as a family almost every night, and even enjoyed going out to movies and spending time with each other.

Shortly after I was informed about my parents’ plan of splitting up, I remembered something that happened from when I was 6 years old. While I was in my room, my father asked me how I would feel if he and my mom divorced. I told him I would be mad and would probably run away. I soon realized that my parents had planned to divorce four years before it actually happened.

As a result, I spent every other week and holiday with either my mom or dad. Although my parents no longer shared the same roof, my life did not seem dramatically altered. We ended up spending the following Christmas together as a ?family? and talked all day. Everything seemed okay.

But only nine months after my parents divorced, my mom called me while I was spending the night at my friend’s house. She told me some ?good news? that I was not very enthusiastic about. With joy in her voice, she informed me that Rick, a man she met shortly after the divorce and shared a relationship with for nine months after, had proposed to her.

She said yes. I was devastated.

Although I knew my mom would soon be happy and free from the stress of divorce, I could only think of one thing: My mom and I would soon move, not just across the city, but five hours from my father to Fresno, California.

I spent the last few months before my mom got remarried in sadness and confusion. Every night I lay wide awake in bed, thinking about how my life would change. Moving away would not only force me to leave my best friends, but also all of my family members, for I had none in the San Joaquin Valley. I immediately felt alone.

Rick married my mom on June 26, 2004. I knew my mom loved him, but because I did not feel he deserved my appreciation, I purposely tried not to like him. My life was slowly being torn apart, and I blamed him for everything that was going wrong in my life. I had to move and leave all of my friends and family because of him and I was going to be forced to go to a private school where I thought everyone would be stuck up.

After the move, however, my anxieties proved futile. My mom enrolled me at Fresno Christian in the sixth grade and everything worked out in time. Though sometimes unsolicited, my stepfather continuously encouraged me to stay strong in Christ whenever I felt down.

As my perspective changed, I made friends that I love like sisters. I also learned to love my stepfather. He never intended to ruin my life but tried to improve what seemed like the worst situation. He makes my mother happy, which is all I could ever ask for. I can go to him with any of my problems or concerns.

I learned to accept that my parents’ divorce was not Rick’s fault, but an agreement made between my mom and dad. I view my stepfather as a blessing that was introduced to my life to help put my worries to rest.

Although a five hour drive separates us, my dad and I manage to maintain a strong relationship. I talk to him daily and always look forward to hearing his voice.

I wake up every morning knowing that my own father is not here to take me to school or even take me to eat dinner. But God has blessed me with a mother and stepfather who love me and want the best for my life. In spite of the distance between us, my dad will always be here for me.