fences and a yard full of toys. It was only short-lived. I would eventually fi nd myself right back on the Huffy bicycle again, a little girl pedaling away my worries and idealizing this new dad who had come into our lives.
While he may have been the best dad
for almost ten years, Mom’s second divorce brought all the unicorns and rainbows to a screeching halt. I still remember the day it all happened, the day I found out I was losing yet another dad. It immediately became harder to look at him or my mother without feeling any bitterness or anger burning in my throat. The acid ran down and leaked into my core once again, slowly eating away the scabs that had formed around the wound my biological father had caused that my dad of the past ten years had freshly opened. I told myself I would be stronger for it. We would be stronger for it. Mom worked so hard for us. She
always had, but she was stretching it with two jobs. In retrospect, I have no idea how we made it. I’m not sure how we kept hope or how I managed to put a smile on my face everyday. Maybe this is when I developed my “fake it until you make it” theory. Through it all, I found ways to escape: focus and dedication on the soccer fi eld, running in the woods for the cross country team, or spending hours studying. The hole closed a little tighter, at least I thought. The edges were hardened, but I was still left without the knowledge of why my father no longer wanted to be there. Time kept moving and the void grew
larger, no matter how much I tried to kid myself that I was too busy to notice or really care. I had simply traded my escapes on the Huffy bicycle for studying, sports, and even a boyfriend, but I didn’t even realize it.
Eventually high school was over.
After graduating with high honors and ranked sixth in my class, I eagerly awaited to start my college career. No one in my family had ever had the opportunity to attend a four-year college. Fears crowded my mind as everyone congratulated me. Finally the day arrived, the day to pack and start this new life, a new adventure away from the crippling worries of my past. Once I got to Averett, I felt at home and once again I buried myself in schoolwork. The wound did not throb and pulse as it had in the past. The gap had become just a part of me that was hollow, a quiet echo of the past that only occasionally would call out from the walls of my heart. A couple of months into the fall
semester at Averett, I went to a Christian Student Union (CSU) luncheon after continually being coaxed in that direction. It was there that I met a girl who would change my entire year. I was losing hope in my romantic relationship with a boy from back home, my family life, and sometimes even my student life. She stepped in just in time and soon became my best friend. Apparently I was not meant to be alone anymore because within days we were inseparable. Every Thursday we would head over to West Main Baptist Church for CSU lunch and we spent many nights laughing until we cried. She was a great distraction, but she was a great healer too. Our laughter was louder than the whispery echoes of the cavern deep in my core I had possessed for so much of my life. By spring semester, my long-
term romantic relationship began to crumble. After over two years together, I was drowning in memories and lost in frustration. For so long, I realized, my high school sweetheart had fi lled the void left
21
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33