Notes
Can be read as a companion piece to An Eternity or it can be read on its own.
My dad had died ten years ago when I was seven. My mom had re-married since and now I had step brother and a step sister.
But they’re still young.
Too young to understand why I feel so angry and betrayed by my mother.
She wanted to completely forget my father and tried to force me to do the same. But I couldn’t. He was my father and I had loved him.
I was angry at first at him for leaving us.
For leaving me.
But then when my mom had forced us out of our home and into a completely new life where my father’s name was never to be mentioned, where no photographs or memories of him were around the house, I started to hate her.
I started going to visit his grave alone when I was old enough to go out on my own. I had to wait until I was fourteen to visit his final resting place.
I hated that she sometimes looked at me with pity, like it was a bad thing to see my father in me.
He had been dark haired and tall, about 6’3 and with a built frame. He had worked in construction and always tried to stay fit. He hadn’t worn a beard or mustache, he was always clean shaven. He had had green eyes. Not dark or any other average color of green. They had been yellow green and I remember perfectly well how his eyes looked because I have those same eyes. He always liked to wear worn blue jeans and a white t-shirt when he was around the house. Always barefoot. I remember how much he enjoyed feeling the earth under his feet. He said it reminded him of his childhood.
I’m only seventeen and I haven’t yet reached my father’s towering height, I’m only five-eleven at the moment.
I shift in my seat.
I hated everything about my life.
I wanted out and I was waiting till I turned eighteen next year to move out and be free to remember my father.
I guess I was also looking forward to Thursday.
My art teacher got permission to take us to Europe. We were going to visit the art museums of London, France and Italy. I was looking forward to visiting Rome. My mother had promised to think about it and I was really hoping she would let up and let me go.
The bell rings signaling that class is over.
“Please remember to bring in both permission slips tomorrow. One copy has to be turned in to the principal’s office on Wednesday and the other will be for me. I need them both or you won’t be able to go.” Mr. Pricely reminds us.
I don’t have seventh period so I ride my bike home.
My mother is in the kitchen washing dishes.
Her husband won’t be home until after six o’clock.
“Have you signed the permission slips?”
“Honey, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Have you?"
She dries her hands and looks at me.
“I’m not sure that I feel comfortable having you so far away.”
“Mom. There will be four teachers with us.”
“I know but I worry.”
“I want to go.”
