Tomorrow I'll be seeing my dad for the first time this week. My parents aren't divorced or anything, he works the night shift at Toyota--Body Weld department--so I don't see him much at all. It's almost like living in a house all on my own these days with my mom at work or class until nine or ten in the evening and my dad leaving for work at 4. I get home and he's just left and my mom won't be home for a few more hours.
I make dinner for myself.
I wash dishes.
I do my laundry.
I kind of miss my dad a lot.
I remember when I was six, my teacher, Ms. Reedy told me I looked blue when we were getting ready for story time on the reading carpet. She called my dad and he was so upset that he had to get up so early in
the morning to come and get me. When he got to my school, though, he took one look at me and practically carried me home. I had caught the flu for the first time. I think it was the first time I really got to
stay home and bond with my dad. Nowadays whenever my dad and I go out it's usually on errands for my
mom. We think the same way, me and my dad, so, naturally we're completely incompetent in WalMart. I was hoping I would get a chance to go grocery shopping with him again this weekend, but between
Chicken Chow Mein night with Sara and Madi and a visit to Centre, I don't think it's gonna work out.
*sigh*
Sometimes I forget how much I really love my dad. He's the one I inherited my artist-brain from so a lot of times our personalities just meld and I forget how influential he actually was to my writing. Not that my mom wasn't, my dad was just a huge chunk of where I found a love for books, music and movies. I'll go tomorrow to Southland Bowling Lanes to see my dad bowling in a charity tournament with his work. It'll only be about twenty or thirty minutes, but at least I'll get to say I saw him this week at all.
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