I can remember times where utilities in the house would be turned off, non-stop bill collectors calling, and even some showing up at our house.
Why is it that some people live in fear of superstitious behavior while others just simply don’t care?
By all accounts, legal and biological, I have had three fathers, a bounty that has left me reflecting on what it means to be a father, and maybe more so, what it means to be someone’s daughter.
On the outside, it looked like I had everything going for me. But on the inside, I lived in a swirling storm of hurt.
My twins were created 10 years ago today. In a little plastic dish that now sits in a box of keepsakes in my basement. I’ve never really talked about it before outside of my close friends and family. It was back during a time when back-to-back miscarriages left me thinking I was only going to
She came to me again at some point and pleaded her case further, believing that the tattoo she wanted and the reasoning behind it would soften me. Her dad died when she was 12. What she was proposing was a small tattoo, on the inside of her arm, of his very recognizable signature.
I was a wounded and frightened child trying to live an adult life. After a year I wanted to have a baby, after all when you are finishing up your last year in high school, and a successful year at that, and you have outgrown the party scene, the next logical step would be to start a family.
I froze when I saw my tiny daughter hooked up to tons of tubes. I couldn’t do anything but sit in a chair and cry while I stared at her.
There was Ariana—sweet-faced like her father, wise for her years. She hugged me firmly, fully to her heart. I was instantly smitten.
I wasn’t dreaming. I was fully awake. Someone or something had settled beside me. This was the first time it had happened to me.