5 AM.
I'm still awake and there are strange noises coming from outside. After investigating, I'm relieved that it's just the branches scraping against the window. Being on the first floor does not have its perks.
So, right, it's five in the morning, my room is still a mess after having moved my life back into a dorm once again (last time). I could have made more progress, but the six episodes of Ugly Betty took up most of my time.
Ok and the squeaking sound must also be the rubbing of tree against glass
..
Well, Dad didn't look much different when I saw him. His belly so big that his shirt went into his belly button so you could easily locate it while first laying eyes on him. His legs are the same size, his hands too.. smaller than I remember them. Not as tall as I remember and less excited than I had hoped for, but just as excited as I expected from someone like him - a man who says less than fifty words per hour if you do most of the talking.
We went to McDonalds and he bought me a coffee. We talked about Gramma, Grampa, my aunt, cousins, and I talked about beer .. A thinly veiled attempt at conveying how Grown Up I am. Yes, I was grasping at straws. As long as we didn't talk about Mom. Which only happened for five minutes on the porch a couple of hours later.
He taught me how to play poker again and we played for rice cakes. I won and ate my crunchy reward slowly because I wasn't hungry, but I ate it just the same.
He left around eight. We had spent about ten hours together. Maybe less. I cried more than I thought I would. I couldn't help looking at him when he was in front of me and thinking "Here, here is the reason I have had so much pain and have dealt with so many consequences", but who doesn't think about that when they look at their parents? At least one out of the both of them...
So, he went back to his wife, my two half brothers, and shiny promise of a second chance at making right what went wrong with me and mom. He said it was so long ago that he doesn't even feel like he was ever married to Mom. The "Pawn" metaphor comes to mind. The "Unwilling Therapist People Seem To Find In Their Children"..
But I should not fault him for thinking he can talk to me about such things. After all, aren't I an adult? Don't I drink beer? Don't I sprinkle every passage with dry sarcasm?
I'm still awake and there are strange noises coming from outside. After investigating, I'm relieved that it's just the branches scraping against the window. Being on the first floor does not have its perks.
So, right, it's five in the morning, my room is still a mess after having moved my life back into a dorm once again (last time). I could have made more progress, but the six episodes of Ugly Betty took up most of my time.
Ok and the squeaking sound must also be the rubbing of tree against glass
..
Well, Dad didn't look much different when I saw him. His belly so big that his shirt went into his belly button so you could easily locate it while first laying eyes on him. His legs are the same size, his hands too.. smaller than I remember them. Not as tall as I remember and less excited than I had hoped for, but just as excited as I expected from someone like him - a man who says less than fifty words per hour if you do most of the talking.
We went to McDonalds and he bought me a coffee. We talked about Gramma, Grampa, my aunt, cousins, and I talked about beer .. A thinly veiled attempt at conveying how Grown Up I am. Yes, I was grasping at straws. As long as we didn't talk about Mom. Which only happened for five minutes on the porch a couple of hours later.
He taught me how to play poker again and we played for rice cakes. I won and ate my crunchy reward slowly because I wasn't hungry, but I ate it just the same.
He left around eight. We had spent about ten hours together. Maybe less. I cried more than I thought I would. I couldn't help looking at him when he was in front of me and thinking "Here, here is the reason I have had so much pain and have dealt with so many consequences", but who doesn't think about that when they look at their parents? At least one out of the both of them...
So, he went back to his wife, my two half brothers, and shiny promise of a second chance at making right what went wrong with me and mom. He said it was so long ago that he doesn't even feel like he was ever married to Mom. The "Pawn" metaphor comes to mind. The "Unwilling Therapist People Seem To Find In Their Children"..
But I should not fault him for thinking he can talk to me about such things. After all, aren't I an adult? Don't I drink beer? Don't I sprinkle every passage with dry sarcasm?
posted by Kate at Tuesday, January 16, 2007
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home