TM49

My History Of Familial Incest
2017-04-03 18:35:10 (UTC)

Good Memories Of My Dad

As my fingers are poised on the keys I am inwardly going through my mind to come up with them. I know they exist but they are often like bits of film that have sat to long. You carefully unroll it and put it on the machine and it starts to play. You catch a quick snippet, a bit of laughter or a sunny day and suddenly the film finds a crinkle or a blurry spot and the image quickly fades. This is the best way I know how to describe the good memories. The problem with the good memories is that they are always chased with a bad one. It either makes it hard to enjoy or all the more poignant depending on my mood.
I remember when I was younger my dad encouraged my art. He could draw some himself and said I had talent. Compliments of that sort were rare and I latched onto them tightly. When I got pregnant (9 years later) he told me that I wouldn't have time for my art anymore and I should just get rid of all my supplies. I remember feeling angry over that. It was like he took one of my few good memories and soiled it. Strangely ( it worked on me subconsciously) I DID give up my art for many years. (I am back to it now and have been for a long time.)
I digress. These are supposed to be good memories.
When I was about nine he brought home a cat after mine disappeared. A beautiful cat that was super friendly and lived with us until I was an adult. I was so happy to get her.
He wasn't the best cook but he could cook some breakfast. Some mornings he would get home from work and whips up this great breakfast, then wake my siblings and I using this fake French chef voice and explaining what was being served. He usually got donuts on the way home and it was like an unexpected mini feast.
Once on a trip he made a wrong turn and boy was he mad! He was cussing and grumbling and muttering and had to backtrack. We were in the car not sure how it was going to go and my brother waits for the moment of silence and says, "I guess this means we are going to the wrong way?" This could have spelled disaster and I am surprised he said it but suddenly my dad laughed over and over and said "you figured that out?" and we were all laughing. It's a good memory even if not particularly funny.
As an adult my dad and I worked at the same place for awhile and I remember one day after work he had to drive home because my car was broke down. I waited for him to come up and a friend of his was chatting with me. When my dad got there he turned to him and said, "I just want to tell you that have raised a nice and intelligent young lady." My dad smiled and said. "Thank you but it was nothing I did and can take no credit. She has learned how all on her own."................even now I tear up remembering. That meant a lot to me and does even in this moment.
Going for ice cream, trips to the shore and playing baseball in the back yard. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Such small bits of film out of one life. There are no more memories to make because he is dust in the ground. There should have been so much more but I must be content with the ones I have.
-TM




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