My Dad left in 2004, I don’t remember the day he left, just
he was gone and everything was different. I remember sitting in my room waiting
for him to open the door and come home.
I remember the days turning into nights and nights bringing the pain, I
remember tears streaming down my face hoping my dad would pick up the phone. I
remember the weeks turning into weekends, the three of us, plus our 150lb coon
hound, piling into our 1999 suburban at 5 am to see him. I remember the endless
boat rides and car rides. I remember the phone calls to the attorney’s, them
trying explaining the situation. I remember never staying in one place. I
remember each house we ever lived in. I remember the evictions, the constant
moving, the bills not being payed because my dad couldn’t put down a bottle. I
remember nights with my grandma, falling asleep on her lap watching Showtime. I
remember having to sleep in a VW van behind our house because it was either
that or the floor. I remember the 13th birthday I spent sitting in the car, not
allowed to come out all day, a pancake thrown in the window at one point. I
remember the screaming, the contact of his hand to my face when I couldn’t do
what he asked, the fear I felt constantly as I hid from him. I remember the
relief I felt being back in my mother’s beat up suburban, hugging the seats the
whole way home. I remember the lights going out and the water turning off and
our surprise sleepovers at Mrs. Jeanne’s house. I remembered it all. I
remembered when it changed.
*FULL DISCLOSURE*
HAS BEEN EXAGGERATED SIGNIFIGATLEY
