This isn’t business, it’s personal.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had dreams of being a fabulous “baby chick,” writing out of this world blogs and as a result perhaps living a more glamorous life—but my heart…well, it’s leading me to stay closer to earth and expose more of my real self. In the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson, “The shell must break before the bird can fly…” Little did I know that a visit to my father’s house would cause my emotions to fly south and lead me to put quill to paper.
As I sat perched in my dad’s garage, watching him tinker and listening to him talk, the little girl in me was enamored– but as a grown woman I stood secretly engulfed in feelings of abandonment. The girl and woman later extended an olive branch to one another when he called to warn me that an excessive amount of oil had leaked from my car onto his driveway. My dad met me at the service department of the local dealership. It appeared he’d changed out of his jeans and t-shirt and into a cape. He became my hero. In my female experience, walking into an auto repair shop is like entering quicksand. Yet at one fell swoop he saved me from an abyss of unnecessary repairs and demanded that this maiden be treated fairly.
Late is better than never.
I am grateful for the relationship we’ve established as adults, but I still miss the one we didn’t have when I was a child. I want to move forward, but Poppa being a rollin’ stone irritates– like a pebble in a shoe. I step with trepidation. As a result, all of my other relationships with men have been rocky. The woman I’ve become understands that sometimes doors close and affairs end. The little girl is still waiting by the window, willing the doorbell or phone to start ringing.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words…
The word bastard means a person born to unmarried parents. It is also used to describe someone who is despicable or disliked. The definition of illegitimate is to be born out of wedlock; against the rules, or not in accordance with social norms and customs. No one ever called me these names, but for years I nestled into society’s classification of who I am. Only recently have I begun to migrate and soar into my life’s purpose.
Parents, even if you don’t have feelings for each other anymore please love, honor and cherish the commitment to your children. In the pecking order of life, they should be a priority. Mothers, for all of your maternal instincts you cannot replace the fraternal order of fatherhood. Fathers, you are your daughter’s first love. How you talk to and play with her dictates which men she’ll “talk to” and whether or not they’ll “play” her. And to those whose lives may share the same flight pattern as mine—allow forgiveness to take you to higher heights. Focus on who you can become, not how you came to be.
