Finding my father after 12 years

my phone rang… i looked up, startled. i wasn’t expecting a call this soon. the only info i gave the P.I. was a name  (was his middle name even Martin?). Last known place of residence on Wilshire Rd.

that address is forever etched in my head. i had always thought that i would return there someday but i heard that condo’s now sprawl across the fields, ponds, and woods that used to be my own private paradise.

what other info did i have? that’s it really… and just one day later i am about to find out if he is dead or alive. that’s all i can think of right now. dead or alive. i’ll worry about those other details later.


when he walked out of the terminal he looked smaller than i remembered. time had done it’s job on him. long gray hair. laugh lines (or were they worry lines? i made a little wish that they were).

i hesitated for a moment. the woman i had become wanted to shrink. to run towards him without inhibition. to hug him without being able to wrap my arms all the way around him. but for him to be able to embrace me like a warm blanket.

then i wanted to push him away. and beat my tiny fists against him and demand “where have you been for 12 years?!?”. and to not cry.

but all i did was stand there. smile. and hug my father with my adult arms and feel an angry happiness deep inside of me.

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