Distracted quickly to write my thoughts, I’m at the drive thru teller and forgot to press “send” for my transaction. I hear this song often now and I honestly can finally hear it all the way through but the words still cling to me like a leach. Memories flash and I can feel but not as intense as it was. Thank God.

I’m 41, on the cusp of reaching the next number. How the hell did I get here, already? It feels I was just 13, 18, 24 & 34. I would have saved those chapters in a bottle to open, feel and revisit. No I still can’t be completely honest, but I feel recently I need to visit the story of not having my Dad. A father figure. It was always just Mom. She dated a man I remember around for what seemed 100 years, but he wasn’t good enough for her which makes me realize that was the first man I was just passive and careless with.

I just started using lipstick at 41, I guess it’s times to grow up with some more pieces of me, yes? What shade should I wear today?

He might have sat with me a few times by just my imagination and maybe my hope. There are those Polaroid photos in the albums I’ve seen. I’m not certain that any of them were him.

There was a man. My mom reached out with research finding his sister, Rhoda. The results from this guy were in quick. He had died from a drug overdose, November. Michael you are or are not Amy’s Dad. Can’t tell with the man being buried now can we?

I did the search, the Dear …. letter. Are you my Dad? I’m sure the letter didn’t write like so, but something about I just graduated high school, 1995 me wanting to see if this man was him, the sperm. We got a response, made the trip, my Mom and boyfriend at the time to Atlantic City. Born there and a big piece of my heart is attached there, I travel to the ocean more than a couple times a year. Charlie was eager to meet me and god damn did I resemble him. Dark Italian features that I have and my eyes said yes, you’re the guy. He called my Mom and trying to rush the morning, wanted to meet earlier. I remember not wanting or being able to fall asleep the Friday night before, anxious. Saturday morning we went to a tiny shack like diner for breakfast (my absolute favorite kind of breakfast stops now) I can’t remember the conversation but recall he was a recovering drug addict, a shoe repair man and had a new girlfriend he was building his life with. Oh and the blood tests from the lab said No. No Charlie you are not Amy’s father. Honestly, I do not 100% believe that.

I have been in love with fun. I have been in love with crisp blue eyes. I’ve been in love with safe. I have felt deep passion. The love platter is full and I think I’ve had enough with no more wonder of curious or what ifs.

I wonder if my Dad was ever in love? I’m sure he loved my mom for their moment. I wonder if he was a womanizer? Did he have any other children? I wonder if he worked hard. Wonder what his passions were? Would he have been proud of me? Did he believe in heaven? Did he die chasing a high, or was he just at his highest high?

I have never really, I mean REALLY dealt with this hand in cards that was put on the table before me. I have mannerisms I’m sure of that are an offset from the missing. I have some pieces of me that are private that I’m certain come from the gent not being present.

Charlie may have not been my dad. Michael who I found out died the November before my search I’ll never know. I don’t have closure on this or this write really, except I’m certain I’m an exceptional, phenomenal woman and this is part of my character and who I am. With that I carry me and I carry on. What do you not have resolved or closure on? Feel, pick yourself up and carry on.