Hey Guys! Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. But I do have something exciting to share! I’m writing a book! And because some of you have signed up to be notified when my blog is updated, I wanted you to be among the first to read any part of it and I decided to share a small excerpt with you today. I am looking forward to completion, but for now, here is a small piece. Please give me your feedback via email, I try to respond to all of my emails. Enjoy!
I had not seen my two sisters in thirty-five years, but here I was, on a plane leaving Baltimore,Maryland headed to Long Beach, California to surprise my youngest sister for her wedding. Their mother flew me out as her wedding gift. In order for you to understand how I got to this point, you need to understand the back story.
You see, we have the same father, but different mothers. My mother and father got married in 1969, (I think). They were married in Maryland, and shortly after they got married, my father had to go to Germany because he was in the Army and that was his duty station. My mother wasn’t able to go with him immediately, so she stayed behind and worked, saved her money, and then went to Germany with him after a few months. After they were in Germany for awhile, his next duty station was in Oakland, California. This is where I was born on May 4, 1971. I don’t know what happened to cause my mother to finally leave my father when I was two years old. All I was told was that my father had a drinking problem, and she decided she could no longer be married to him, so she packed up and we left and came to Delaware to live with her father. My father remarried, and out of that marriage came my two sisters.
I didn’t see my father again until the Summer after I turned 12. I remember that I was sitting outside on my porch with one of my friends, and this Cadillac pulled up. My mother was inside, and I yelled, “mom, there is a strange car out here,” and she came outside. There were two men inside, and after the one on the passenger side stepped out of the car, she said, “that’s your dad”, plain and simple, as if she was telling me to go wash my hands for dinner. The one in the driver’s seat was my grandfather. My father walked up the steps with his arms outstretched, and I got up to hug him. I was so happy to finally see my father, especially because I had never heard his voice, never seen a picture, and had only heard about him through stories from his family. That’s actually how he found out where we lived. His aunt, my great-aunt, that I met when I was ten, used to pick me up to stay with her on the weekends. She was more like a grandmother to me, since both of my real grandmothers had died before I was born. He went to her house, and she told him how to get to our house. My mother never talked about him. This man was an enigma to me, but I was so glad to finally be in his arms...my daddy.
The three of us went inside, and my grandfather sat in the car and waited. Once inside, I heard the best news I had ever heard in my live, my father wanted me to come and live with him for the Summer. How cool was that? My mother agreed that I could go, and as I rushed around packing up my clothes, they sat and talked. I didn’t know and I didn’t care what they were talking about, all I knew was that I needed to hurry up and get my stuff together before my mom changed her mind. After I got my things together, I saw my mom and dad hug, and as they pulled apart, he lingered with his arms around her shoulders for a little while, and a warm feeling of hope came over me as I watched and I began to wonder if they were gonna get back together. I secretly hoped that they would so that I could be daddy’s little girl, because in my eyes, this was all about me, not them.
I hugged my mom good-bye, and as my father and I walked out the door towards the car, my mother called me back and said, “Chelle, you forgot your flute. You gotta practice it over the Summer. Isaac, you need to make sure she practices it while she’s with you.” I grabbed my flute and bounded down the steps towards the car. My grandfather got out to help put my bags in the trunk and he gave me a hug and asked me if I remembered him. Of course I did, this was my Daddy Charles, the man who used to give me money when we came to visit him on occasion. I still remembered the bright and shiny fifty cent pieces he gave to me. I wished I had one right then and there to show him that I kept it, but money seemed to burn a hole in my pocket. I’m inclined to believe this may have been a problem my whole life.