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 |  of a tennis player, hiker, writer |
| I woke this morning to my muse buzzing with random thoughts for essay writing. I haven’t written an essay in a long time, being focused on my book, and this blog – which I’ve really come to love. After Wednesday’s 13-hour workday, Thursday wasn’t much for writing. I spent the morning watching TV with Autumn, who was home with the flu. Every time I left the room, she’d ask, “Are you coming back? Stay in here with me.” It’s hard to ignore a request like that. So, we watched music videos and old reruns of The Gilmore Girls. This morning, my muse, tired of its unexpected vacation awoke ready to work. I lay in bed thinking of creative phrases on a wide variety of topics and now, I’m wishing I would have gotten up to jot them down. My father. That’s something I thought about. Every living being has – had a father. Technically, you could say I had two. Although, I grew up fatherless. My biological father is a man I only know from pictures and very brief conversations my mother has shared with me about him. He died in a car accident before I could speak in complete sentences. I look like my father, skin complexion, hair color, and, I inherited my visual impairment from him. Gee thanks dad. My other father, whose last name is now my middle name, never was very good at sticking around in one spot. The last time I laid eyes on him, I was eight years old. He was in and out of our lives. As small children, (my twin sister and two younger siblings), we were on pins and needles when ever he decided to pop into our lives. We would get excited and huddle on one of our beds and whisper about how long we thought he’d stay this time. One of us always bet it would be for good. It never was. He died when I was an adult, in my late twenties. I barely shed a tear, and I don’t remember the date. Why should I? He never lifted a damn finger to communicate with any of us. Even Lisa or Joey, (Randy or Terry) who were truly his. Later, after his death, I learned that he had three separate families, scattered across the country. None aware of the others. I remember thinking what an asshole he was. If I was angry, and he wasn’t even my real father, than how did Lisa, Joey, Randy and Terry feel? They were biologically connected. Where were their birthday cards or Christmas presents? Three whole families? What a jerk. Now, that I’m older and analyzing all of this, I wondered why he felt compelled to cultivate three families; loving the wives, having babies… I remembered, lying in bed this morning, mom saying he and his brothers grew up in an orphanage. I guess, never having a family, maybe he was over compensating. |
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