Invisible Dad

ImageAs I sit here trying to figure out how to make a very special Father’s day dinner for my husband, my mind suddenly drifts off into hazy memories and I start thinking of my dad. Well, at least I try very hard to bring just a little memory into existence. I try so hard that I actually begin to make some up…

…He took me to walks in the park in my little polka-dot dress and Suzie Q hat when I was 5. He told me amazing stories filled with adventure and wonder before going to bed each night.  He took me to the zoo and the movies and the lake when I was 10. He took to me to mall parking lots to teach me how to drive, we danced the waltz at my Sweet 16, and he walked me down the aisle when I was 21.

In my fabricated memories, he never left when I was 2 years old, he was never a heroin addict, and I know exactly where he is at this very moment. He rescued me from wrinkled hands that touched me inappropriately at the tender age of 4. He never let anyone beat me or scar me and he taught me how to play chess as he promised at 13. He didn’t allow me to leave with my boyfriend that night when I was raped because he is always there protecting me. Even at the age of 29, I am daddy’s little girl. He knows and adores my children and my children are in love with their grandpa.

I shake off the fairy tale make believe story, as the lump in my throat grows tighter and the tears in my eyes fight hard to roll down my cheeks. I wish to say I never needed him but I did. I wonder if he ever thinks about me or my other siblings whom are all from different mothers. I wonder if my siblings missed him as much as I.

Yes, my mother stepped in to fill in those shoes as best as she could and did an amazing job. Yes, she met an awesome man who walked me on my big day and proudly calls me daughter. Yes, I have a wonderful husband who dances with me and calls me Princess and yes, I have a God who guides me and is my great Protector. But sometimes… just sometimes… on a day like today, I wish you could sit at my table and enjoy this special dinner. How I wish I could tell you that even though you were never here I love you and I missed and miss you more than you’ll ever know.

What are they putting in my Morning Coffee ?

A few times a week or so, in mid morning hours, after I drink my usual morning coffee.. this sudden urge of doing something great.. something huge… comes over me. Inspired in more ways than one, my mind runs rampant a thousand miles an hour and I feel like I’m unstoppable. But as the clock ticks away and the minutes fly by and NONE of these “great ideas” (or the mere inspiration for one) are manifested in the physical, dark and deep discouragement comes over me, leaving me with great sadness. Enamored with this BREATHTAKING feeling of doing something great but not knowing what that is, I despise the emptiness it leaves behind…so bittersweet. Its like inhaling an amazing aroma that awakens all of your tastebuds to the point of taking you to another time, but never being able to taste, even worst never finding out what is in that pot. Am I Bipolar? or is this the norm in great minds before achieving their first breakthrough? I’d rather embrace the latter idea, in the mean time I’m conducting extensive research on where my corner bodega purchases their coffee beans.

Waking Up On The Right Side of The Bed

Setting the alarm clock to 30 minutes earlier than the usual… WOW … what a difference it makes! I didnt rush like crazy this morning to try and get my son ready for school and getting to work was not the usual “OMG I hope the Vice-Principal wont see me coming in late again” Very liberating to have that little extra time and have so much more control of my day. Which reminds me… I have to get to bed. Good Night