I’m about two hours away from leaving work, and becoming more and more nervious with every passing moment. That funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, slowly working it’s way to my legs, isn’t helping any. Why am I getting so worked up, you ask? Well, it’s because once I leave work today, I’m not going home, but to my father’s house.
My father who I haven’t spoken to since this past February.
Things between us haven’t been anywhere near normal since 1990, which is about the same time that everything else stable in my life started turning to shit on me and my family. And while I love my father, I have to admit that he can be dificult for me to talk to. There is a lot more holding us back from a normal father-son relationship than I know of, but I’m not sure if I want to know everything he has to tell me.
But I have to listen.
I have to hear his side of all my truthes. I have to clear away all my past judgements on my family, my mother, my stepfather, if just for one day. I have to see all of this through my father’s eyes if I ever want him back in my life. Wish me luck.
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