This I Believe
Most people know their father from the day they are born; for me this isn’t the case. I remember meeting my father for the first time when I was seven. I was no longer an asthmatic and he was no longer in the military
I remember being in his second wedding as the flower girl, but I remember that I always felt as though his new wife didn’t want me around. After this, every other weekend became his weekend but that didn’t mean anything to him. Many times he would call and say he couldn’t or didn’t want to. I never felt he loved me. Even though I didn’t feel loved, I still went to his house whenever he wanted me to. Many of his weekends were filled with one of my Saturday soccer games, but he said that he liked watching me play.
Out of the hundreds of soccer games I’ve played I can only remember two of them well. The first I remember is the one when my father’s weekend came and it was our job to bring halftime snacks, which my father and his wife cam through with. The other soccer game I remember is one I did not pay attention to. It was after the game that I happened to be worried about. That Saturday was the day I had to decided; stay in New Mexico, my home, with my father, a man I did not know, or move to a place I had never seen, with my mom, my stabilizer.
For the people who know me, my decision became clear because I now reside in Wylie, Texas. As for my father, that Saturday, after a hard fought but lost game, happened to be the first time I had ever seen him cry. We still see each other, most of the time in November around thanksgiving, every now and then in December for Christmas, but one thing remains the same; ever time I leave to get on that plane he cries, says he loves me, and tells me to call him when we land.
Since that Saturday when I first saw him cry, and never thought he loved me, up until this past thanksgiving when I left him for the seventh time, our relationship will never be the same. I look forward to loving him like a regular and supporting daughter should, because I believe in my father.
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