dear dad - the past

pickles wrapped in cheese and baloney sandwiches in the trailer.

blowing bubbles in the kitchen while you were on a work call.

we watched nemo a dozen times and monsters inc a hundred at least.

i was 6. i was happy.

then, you met her. the love of your life.

that proved itself to be a lie. The last of many.

hot cocoa with my new stepsister while she took my old spot on the couch.

i was too young to be happy for you, but jealousy has no age minimum.

when I was 8, there was a wedding. then babies. blue-eyed tiny twin girls.

i loved their little blonde heads and pink hands.

i really thought you did too.

then when i was nine, i realized the monster wasn't under my bed, but tucking me into it.

sitting in your big green recliner, listening to the real-life movie playing from the girl's bedroom upstairs to the right.

SLAP

SCREAM.

i sat there with a hand clasped over my mouth, keeping myself as muted as a third-grader can.

why were you hitting infants? how did you get so mad you took your let your calloused palm scare and scar their innocent faces? you are a grown man!

then

you had the audacity to come downstairs and ask me to get you ice cream.

and I had the audacity to smile and make sure to drizzle extra caramel on top.