Missing

Nothings missing, I'm not missing, but when I was trying to think what to cal this piece of compulsively typed drivel, that's what occured. And there it will likely stay.

I love this time of year. It's a relief from the heat and bright of summer. It makes me want to migrate or travel. I don't know why.

I don't talk to dad nearly as much as we used to. I don't know why. I'm sure part of it is that now that he's a big shot store manager, his work hours are longer and he doesn't have as much free evening time. (But he has a predictable schedule . . . three on, three off, like when he was a nurse) It could be that he still owes me money, I loaned him some last winter to help pay off their car. (He still owes me $200, I don't want to ask for it, pisses me off that I may have to) It could be that even my patience has been worn thin by the whole 27 year old step brother that's allowed to sleep all day and play games all night, largely on my dad's dime (while he owes me money . . .)

Truth is, I don't really know why. Except that when I was a kid, he went years with no contact between him and us. I know mom didn't make it easy, but she and we were always findable. I think he did it for no other reason than it was easy. (I love him, but he really is spineless . . . terrible thing to say about your dad).

I also know that he's cut people out, his family, my mom, us, his ex-wives, throughout his adult life. I don't think any of those were malicious or planned, just the product of inertia and distance.

He moved almost four? years ago. The bond with his grandsons kept him in contact and close, but its been three and a half years. They aren't the same little boys, any of them. They aren't his little guys, and I haven't been his little girl for much longer than that.

Truth is, I think he looks at what's in front of him and not much farther. His wife pretty much runs things, and that's always been the way with him, weather his wife was my mom, or maryanne, or twyla - they all ran his life for him.

I look at my dad and back to my mom . . . and think that I'm probably never really going to be able to pass for normal. Not with those two as my models.

In a way, its a wonder I'm as sane as I am.

But back to dad. I know he kinda expects us to go see him this summer. And I want to, expect that its so unpleasant to be there when he's at work with Twyla not coming out of her room and the "kids" (grown adults) sleeping all day. And there's the whole lice thing (every time the kids visit, they catch lice, Grace has an infestation that hasn't been treated, ever). I'm tired of having to shave their heads after the trips.

Id it cruel of me to want to plan a trip in a different direction?

Probably.

Maybe that's what's missing. My relationship with my dad. ( I knew it would happen eventually, his nature is to disappear, it was only a matter of time and really, why should he fight now to part of our lives, he didn't when we were kids).

I need to stop this line of thought. I'll need those damn pills . . . . which I also hate.