When i would write poems about father, I used to pretend that him leaving on that 8 month journey was real. The reality of the situation was too unbearable. 8 months turned to 12, 12 to 18, and then 18 to enternity. My father had gone to jail. I had sensed it. Mother would make these long day trips and leave me with Nana. She was an awful bitch. She would tell me seemingly unbelievable stories of my father, and what kind of a man he was. I didn’t know the person she spoke of, because in no way was this the man i called father.
Our house was seized, and we were forced to move in with Nana. Nana made me grow up. At the young age of 12, she was jealous of my youth, so she seized any advantage to tarnish it.
When i was 13 i was finally allowed to go see father. The day we were going to see him, mother got a call. I will never forget the acute sound of the phone dropping to the ground, and mothers screams. I was forced to grow up that day.