“What’s wrong with you? What is it?â€
It was my Dad who was asking these questions of me. I knew they were prompted by the cool, calm and calculated look that was streaming from my eyes into his, analyzing that soul that could no longer be hidden from me. Even the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end – and I was not the one in danger here.
I stood there, my 5’4†to his 5’ 10â€, my dark brown eyes, hair and facial features mirroring his, the intensity of my gaze freezing us both in place in the middle of his kitchen. He lived in an old country house and his Christmas guests were milling all around us, oblivious. My own mind was spinning as I played through the recordings of my interactions with this man who had sired me.
He’d been my favorite person when I was two. My mother has told the story many times of how I’d wait for him while sitting on my tiny knees, peering hopefully out the window at every car that happened to drive toward our home. “I’ll bet that’s my Daddy!†I’d say, “Yes, I bet that’s my Daddy!†and once he did arrive, I’d run to the door and grab his hand as soon as it left the knob. “Let’s go play the sandbox Daddy! Let’s go play the sandbox.â€
I’d seen him rescue animals, rescue people, work untiringly for days – for free – just to help out a family member. If any stranger had walked up on the street and asked him for a shirt, he’d have literally given him the one off his back.
The thing that remained so confusing were the good things about him. Looking into his eyes, I struggled. I tried to comprehend why he had betrayed me yet again, and this time in a fashion that seemed beyond all forgiveness.
I stood there, staring at my father, knowing where the guns were kept, knowing that he would be asleep and helpless later in the night. I stood there, pondering. What was the right thing to do? I stood there trying to decide whether or not I should kill my father.
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Congratulations on a great first post! You have definitely started things off with a bang…it will be interesting to see how this story progresses over time.
How old were you when the event that you describe here took place?
Thank you, Mike! I’m so glad that you stopped by tonight. Well, there’s no BANG! …yet. The “me” of the story is still thinking about it. You’ll have to keep reading!
How old was I? Hmmm….. I have real problems with keeping track of time so…my baby daughter, Wren, had just started kindergarten and she was five. I gave birth to her when I was nineteen, so I would have been twenty-four or so. That’s how I have to figure out this time stuff!
well you say there is no bang, but….this IS a very powerful beginning! from the innocence of a baby’s love, to pondering the murder of your father. i am eager for the rest of the story to be unveiled as to why you came to this place.
Charlene – Words to warm the heart of any writer!
It is a difficult task that I have, to be the daughter of a man who committed cruel and evil acts, made more difficult by the fact that I loved him so.
I have to agree with Mike and Charlene. You have gotten this blog off to a good start. Many inquiring minds wonder what causes a person to contemplate killing another. Just as many want facts so they can decide if they find such thoughts acceptable. This is human nature. Thus, you have set the stage for an intriguing journey and/or discovery. Good job.
Yvonne – I’m glad that I am providing intrigue for my readers! The fact that I have been to that place where I would consider that the taking of another’s life might be the right thing to do is a thing that surprises even me. It’s also helped me to learn that there are no simple black and white rules as to what is always good and what is always evil.
I can’t wait to share more so that people might understand what it is that took me there.
Julie told me about the phone call you made to her earlier today—about how your sister was unhappy that you were making certain things known. I’m sorry she feels that way, although it it understandable. At the same time, I hope that she will see later on that writing about those unhappy events from the past was necessary for you, and perhaps also, for her.
I also learned, years ago, about the varying shades of gray that helps keep one human and humane. If God had intended for us to experience life only in black and white, He would not have provided us the ability to see and think in color.
Lee – Today has been a rollercoaster of a day – of that I can assure you! I’ve had every emotion from elation to despair. I’ve come to the realization that I cannot write my story without the spilling out of some events that have happened to others – because none of our lives are lived in a vacuum. What I have to be cognizant of is keeping things relevant to me, and to the story, and to make the toes that I step on be more often my own, as opposed to anyone else’s. Thanks so much for your words of encouragement! If I did not believe that more good than bad will come of the telling of my tale, then I’d keep my mouth shut and my fingers still…as hard as that might be for me to do!