Freshly pressed reminded that tomorrow is Father’s Day. Of course I didn’t need any more reminding of it… the occasion is everywhere.
I’ve met good fathers throughout my life- but certainly not mine, or his, or my mother’s. Or my cousins, or my step-siblings. This is really starting to sound like a family thing. Perhaps I should be thankful that I wasn’t born a boy into my family.
My dad took us (my brother and I) to the beach. We played soccer in the park every other week. He brought me corn in the cob from that place I really liked. These memories seem nice but that’s all I have, and they didn’t last past the day I turned 6 or 7.
I didn’t grow up seeing my parents together. He cheated and my mom was brave and smart enough to leave him when we were really little. He was somewhat around until he found more women and had more children. He didn’t help my mom with our caring- financially or emotionally.
Then he heard I was gay. He said he was disappointed.
I really wish I had an actual father to celebrate tomorrow. But if I don’t call him tomorrow, he’ll have more children that might do so still. His odds aren’t bad. Can’t say the same for mine.
-Mrs. This One