Wednesday, April 25, 2007

my dad liked donuts.

my dad liked donuts.
what dad doesn't like donuts?

i stood there in the cafeteria this morning. holding my cup of scrambled eggs, sprinkle of cheese, and salsa. and i fought back tears.

that lump they said, those feelings they said, that pain they said would hit you in the oddest moments. it always does.

it hit me.
in the cafeteria today.

while i tried to talk gia out of getting donuts for breakfast. after, actually.

i couldn't remember what his favorite kind was.

i looked at darcie. trying to decide between coffee and orange juice. i looked at that guy with the pleasant face and scrubs. smiled at me.

my dad liked donuts.
oh god.
not here.
look, potato chips.
choke it back.
don't lose it here.
cranberry juice?

i wanted it to go away. this basketball in my throat that choked me every day after i read that letter. after i got that voicemail. after months and months of looking, of asking, of begging, of sending, of writing. that firepaingiantpunchtothegutcan'tbreatheveragainiamdrowningsuffocation of grief. i knew it would go away. i knew i wouldn't always gasp for breath while gassing up mycar or brushing my teeth. i wanted to be through it. i wanted to stay in it. i wanted to fuse to the couch and live as blue velvet.

he tied my shoes.
he liked donuts.
he taught me how to catch a baseball.
he bandaged my knees.
he said i was strong.
he took off my training wheels and ran next to my bike with his hand on my back.

it never goes away. it evolves. it changes you.and it sucker punches you in the cafeteria.

chocolate. with peanuts.

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