Man of My House
Seventeen: Ten thousand voices grab me and swing me through the Autumn air as I try to figure out how I got to this college campus.
Sixteen: I am the Sun and everybody else is the universe revolving around me. I guess I should have paid attention in science and realized that the Sun isn't the center.
Fifteen: I break my teeth biting off the shackles on my wrists. Does my mom think that I'm still...
Fourteen? A first, brief romance fills my nostrils with rose and leaves lemon juice in my mouth.
Thirteen: Please don't leave me alone at high school, mom.
Twelve: Dad's been gone.
Eleven: Please don't leave Dad.
Ten: Mom can't drive me to my game. Her eyes are wet but it hasn't rained in weeks.
Nine through Five: Fuzzy puzzles fall in place inside my head. Sometimes I feel like my memories are made up.
Four: We finally moved out of the apartment although I only watch this in old pictures.
Three: Those family pictures on the mantle of Mom and Dad and me.
Two: I've been at college for a couple days now and my mind can't think straight, I wish I still had
One Dad who always played, smiled, inspired, loved; swung, fished, fixed, hugged.
I must become the Man of my (new) House.