(no subject)
Over Christmas, Dad and i were in his kitchen talking about Laura's situation (financial and employment concerns stemming from an inherent personality barrier between her and the rest of the world).
He's constantly wondering what will happen to her and if she's okay. He looks me in the eye and says "I've never had to worry about you this way." I know he means this to be a compliment, but I can't help but to flashback to half a dozen times I struggled through some life-altering scenario feeling totally alone.
By the time my mind wanders back to the conversation at hand, we've decided to go shopping and are putting on our coats. He continues on about Laura and the many possible solutions and potential outcomes we might expect should things run this or that course.
He stops shuffling his thoughts and meets my gaze again. "I am so proud of you, Lin," he admits. His eyes want to pour his guts right out in front of me. Instead he blinks; and the moment is gone. we're in
We're in his car and he misses the turn. He confesses that he'd like to go to Starbucks. We circle the building and he rolls down his window. I let him buy me a a Tall, Decaf, Nonfat, Vanilla Latte. Between that first window and the passing of the cups, was a comment I won't soon forget.
"You know the one thing I do worry about you sometimes if your health. How IS your health?" I answer with something vague about an appointment from last year. I neglect tot mention the birth control I'm on as well as my risk for Metabolic syndrome. Then he says, "Not to be rude or make you uncomfortable, but it seems you've been breathing more heavily." Then a fat tear streaked down his face.
BAM. Ton of bricks. So far, that very surprising serious mention has brought me to my knees. I know what I have to do, because I know someone out there cares if I live.
Dad loves me. He always has. There is no doubt in my mind. Does he GET me? I don't know. He wants to... yet the disconnect remains.
He's constantly wondering what will happen to her and if she's okay. He looks me in the eye and says "I've never had to worry about you this way." I know he means this to be a compliment, but I can't help but to flashback to half a dozen times I struggled through some life-altering scenario feeling totally alone.
By the time my mind wanders back to the conversation at hand, we've decided to go shopping and are putting on our coats. He continues on about Laura and the many possible solutions and potential outcomes we might expect should things run this or that course.
He stops shuffling his thoughts and meets my gaze again. "I am so proud of you, Lin," he admits. His eyes want to pour his guts right out in front of me. Instead he blinks; and the moment is gone. we're in
We're in his car and he misses the turn. He confesses that he'd like to go to Starbucks. We circle the building and he rolls down his window. I let him buy me a a Tall, Decaf, Nonfat, Vanilla Latte. Between that first window and the passing of the cups, was a comment I won't soon forget.
"You know the one thing I do worry about you sometimes if your health. How IS your health?" I answer with something vague about an appointment from last year. I neglect tot mention the birth control I'm on as well as my risk for Metabolic syndrome. Then he says, "Not to be rude or make you uncomfortable, but it seems you've been breathing more heavily." Then a fat tear streaked down his face.
BAM. Ton of bricks. So far, that very surprising serious mention has brought me to my knees. I know what I have to do, because I know someone out there cares if I live.
Dad loves me. He always has. There is no doubt in my mind. Does he GET me? I don't know. He wants to... yet the disconnect remains.