The Far Away Place

Snot and tears slid from my face to wet his shirt in polka dots as my head rested on his chest. HE held me as I realized that my anger towards him was all about my dad. When HE gets quiet, when HE fails to look at me when I speak to him, when it seems that although we are spending time together, his mind is somewhere else it takes me back to that dark, all too familiar place. My tumultuous house with Mommy and Daddy.

Mommy was always yelling at Daddy and Daddy was always checking out emotionally. "Look at me, look at me," I often wanted to scream at him. I was eight and visiting my friend down the street. I rode my electric blue two wheeler with the banana seat to her house and was proud because not too soon before this visit, I had taken the training wheels off. It poured, as most Florida summer rains do. The showers come from nowhere and dump inches at a time and within an hour or two, it is as clear as if nothing happened.

The shower began and all I knew is that I had to get home and quick! I picked up my bike and jumped on. I didn't look where I was going I just made a bee line for home. My mommy had walked out the front door to call me in when she saw what I didn't. A truck was driving towards me as I crossed the street without watching. I heard her scream and my daddy ran right through the glass door to save me. I was fine but my daddy's hands were filled with glass.

When I recount that memory I think that he must love me otherwise why would he rush so much to save me that he didn't think to open the door? Other than that one, there are only a couple more memories where I felt like my daddy made an effort to make me feel important.

So, as I lay sobbing on his chest after our argument, I realized that all my anger, all my fears, all my insecurities rested in the plentiful childhood memories of how my father took short cuts, made empty promises, was physically present but emotionally absent, yet was filled with good intentions. Sometimes I worry that HE will treat me that way as well.

My daddy has no idea how I feel about all of this. We've never discussed his behavior, his silence, his absence. He lives in a world where life is peachy and the child is the one that must put in most of the work. He loves me, but from a far away place that has left me feeling empty, cold and scared to death to trust even him.