I had been a step-mother for six years, and with my husband,I had watched his young children growing into teenagers. Although they lived mostly with their mother, they spent a lot of time with us. Over the years, we all learned to become more comfortable with each other. However, I continued to feel somewhat like an outsider.  When the children moved to a town five hours away, my husband was understandably destroyed. In order to keep in touch with the kids, we set up an e-mail and chat-line service. Ironically  , this technology can make us feel out of touch and more in need of real human contact. If a computer message came addressed to "Dad", I'd feel forgotten. If my name appeared along with his, it would brighten my day.  _ not just over the telephone wires. Late one evening, as my husband was snoozing  , I was catching up on my e-mail, an "instant message" appeared on the screen. It was Margo, my oldest stepdaughter, also up late in front of her computer. We sent several messages back and forth, exchanging the latest news. When we "chatted" like that, she wouldn't necessarily know if it was me or her dad unless she asked. That night she didn't ask and I didn't tell her it was me either. After hearing the latest volleyball scores and the details about a coming dance at her school, I said that it was late and I should go to sleep. Her return message read, "Okay, talk to you later! Love you!" At this, a wave of sadness ran through me and I realized that she must have thought she was writing to her father the whole time. She and I would never have openly exchange such words of love. Feeling guilty   for not telling her the truth, yet not wanting to embarrass   her, I simply replied, "Love you too! Have a good sleep!" I thought again of their family circle and I felt again the sharp ache of emptiness and "otherness". Then, just as my fingers reached for the keys to return the screen to black, Margo's final message appeared. It read, "Tell Dad good night for me too." With tear-filled eyes, I turned the machine off. How was the experience of the author as a stepmother that night?
Heart-warming. Full of sadness. Heart-breaking. Disappointing.