For the Sonorous

A Daddy’s Promise

I couldn’t wait to get home

Dress up in my pink jersey that no longer fits

And head to the ballpark.

That was our thing.

Mom always joked,

“You only go for the food.”

But the truth is,

I only went because of you.

 

It was our thing.

You smiled at me,

While explaining baseball terms

For the third time that day.

You took pictures,

And even mentioned a selfie

I still regret turning down.

You yelled,

At the referee or pitcher.

But I loved to see you yelling at someone else,

Besides me.

You spoiled me,

Buying any fatty or sweet foods

And this time,

It was because you wanted to see me smile.

 

You asked every thirty minutes,

“Are you sure you’re okay?

You don’t want anything else?

Can you see?

You want to change seats?”

You were a dad.

You were present

On our father-daughter day.

Because it was our thing.

Now reminiscing,

All I can think is

Where is that same dad

Today?

I’m sure if you were able to take off

A day from work,

It would be like old times?

 

Wrong.

You’d rather use your free days

On the wasteful,

Yearly family

That uses you.

There are even times I think,

Are you really who I think you are?

Are you that same hero that would kill 

any bug that scared the sleep out of me?  

Are you still my secret Santa?

Are you even still my dad?

Biologically the answer to that is yes,

But emotionally

There are so many alarms ringing

With a loud screech of hope,

That someday you will change.

 

It bothers me that when there’s company,

That’s when you want to act like my dad.

You get mad if I don’t tell you good morning.

Whenever I choose to just say hi to your family member

I never met in my life,

you still say,

“You’re rude.

If it was one of your mother’s family you wouldn’t act like that.”

And you especially hate

Whenever I take Mom’s side.

But face the truth,

I can’t conform to respect someone

I feel has left me for years,

All alone.

I can’t look at you as my dad,

When you only take on the role for holidays.

Just because I see your face everyday,

It doesn’t change our one word car conversations.

And it especially doesn’t change every time you ask what grade I’m in.

Because Father,

You’re supposed to care enough to know.

It was our thing,

And nothing is the same.

 

The only thing you added to my life is

My middle name.

 

Now I look to little immature boys

To fill the holes left in my heart,

That only a Father

Can patch with a princess band-aid.

 

You made it hard for me to identify

That actual love is not

Hesitated I love you’s

Or forceful hands at 2 AM.

 

But you also helped me realize

That I do deserve love

That lasts long.

 

Sometimes when I stand in front my colorblocked closet

And stare at that now cropped pink jersey,

I go back to that same little girl,

Sitting in a squeaky blue seat

Soaking in the smell of fresh pretzel dough

And brown beer

In the sticky cup holder dividing my seat from your’s.

 

The only difference is

That little girl is gone now,

Because that is no longer our thing.