No Love Lost, No Love Found
That father and daughter bond, the sweetest love I’ve never known. I’ve seen my father over a thousand times wondering if he’s ever seen me. Looking with his eyes wide shut. It seemed as if over the years he was disappearing, fading into the black. A fragment of what I thought I needed but in all reality became as pointless as the conclusion to book that I’ll never finish My father has managed for eighteen years to be a part of my life without being a part of my life. He lives right around the corner from me in a two story home that’s painted light brown. It looked like s fluffy double stacked pancakes and when the sun hit the satellite dish on the top of the roof it made the top half of the house shine like syrup running off the top. For a while all I knew my father by was this house, I got ideas of what he might be like by looking at this house. I thought of him as a full bodied man because instead of having one front door he had two. So I thought maybe he couldn’t fit through just one. I imagined him as a strong wide bodied linebacker with a soft side due to the fact that he had a colorful; well-kept garden on the side of the house. The day I met my dad not my father who had raised me but my dad. I truly realized that I was imagining him with my heart and not my mind. He stood as tall as a palm tree sighting beach side, with arms as long as a boardwalk. He never even attempted to say a word to me or ask me how I was doing in school. Instead he pieced me with his beany brown eyes that appeared to be rising off of a yellow back drop. He looked at me as if I had stolen his joy. I reached out to hug him but he reached out his hand for me to shake instead. His fingers felt like ice cycles penetrating my skin. I thought to myself how someone with such a warm appearance could be so cold on the inside. Sad to say, I know this doesn’t sound like the best first impression but over the years as bad as our first encounter was it was the best...
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