Maybe that’s why I’m falling apart tonight.
Memorial Day.
The memories crawl out of me like blood through old cracks.
Every few years it landed on my birthday,
like some kind of curse.
More time home.
More time around him.
Not always the belt.
Sometimes worse.
The silence.
The tension.
The fear of breathing wrong.
The anxiety of waiting to find out what tiny mistake would finally deserve punishment.
And if I didn’t mess up?
I still waited for it anyway.
Family came over.
He smiled.
Played father of the year while I sat there shaking under my own skin.
Everyone loved him.
Protected him.
Believed him.
And I learned what abandonment felt like before I was even old enough to spell it.
Now the fireworks make my chest cave in.
The loud cracks.
The memories.
The beach.
The fear.
