My father called me pumpkin seed for most of my childhood. When I was in college, he would leave me voicemails, saying, “hi pumpkinseed, it’s your dadd-i-o! Please give me a call back!” He does not answer my calls anymore.
My father once got very close to getting everything he ever wanted. Big man, a loved man, a family man. What is a more fatherly act than sacrificing your future for the thought of this moment? My father does not answer my calls anymore.
My father is getting older, day by day and minute by minute
. What do you do when you’re the last child to speak to your father? How do you look upon a banished man, and not think to tell him his exile is self induced. My father does not call me back.
“Are you stonewalling me, kid?” My father barks at me like a dog behind a chain link fence. I know he loves me but I have always been scared of dogs. My father turns off his phone.
Once, I cut my fathers hair. I ache to sit with him and tell the boy in him it can still be okay. He does not have to be a young man to be happy. I want to be my father’s child. I want to cut my father’s hair, to turn on his phone, and have him answer the phone when I call.
Oh, what a beautiful and honest piece. a fine read!