Normal

I often think about life, and it's funny little ways. 

We follow day by day these paths that we've hand picked from a cookie cutter- magazine of preconceived ideas of what we’re supposed to be. 

Who we're supposed to become. 

I wonder if I fit into this list of notions. My emotions running crazy. 

Am I crazy? I wonder. 

I think that I am fairly normal.

I'm gay, I have four parents, bi-racial family members, I’m not fully related to any of my nine siblings, and what's more is … 

No. I guess that's about it. 

My house burned down when I was ten.

I couldn't believe I lost my Tomigatchi. Or my Pokemon.

I left the light on, but the fire started in the laundry.

And on my dresser behind me where trophies built a shrine.

Laid a picture or twelve of my best friend at the time.

I lost all of my clothes, and worldly possessions.

I suppose God cleaned house, and it taught me a lesson.

There are things that we need, and things that we don’t.

Like I need my reflection, but I don’t need a phone.

My reflection reminds me that I am alive.

No matter how old and gray, I still have more time.  

Today I look back and the thing that I mourn is the photo of my parents I’d never appreciated before.

The only picture of them that I’d ever had.

Not because I'd rather have just one mom and one dad, but because they were young… And a little more like me. 

It makes me believe that I’m not far from the dream.

I mean I am often on bottom, and rarely on top, and the scales just keep swaying because I never stop.

People drop what they’re doing if it benefits them directly.

My father was never going to come back and collect me, 

He let me lie there. 

Wondering why, there I was with one dad and two mom's, 

Along the way I accepted that he wouldn’t be around.

I let it bring me down for years, and if you can take it…  here's the truth.. 

I have used this excuse since I can not remember… 

And if you're missing a parent, then you've probably been there. 

I blamed him for everything. All the darker parts of me, and believe me.. there are a few.  

But I know the truth… and so do you.

See my father came back a year or so ago, and now we are closer than ever before.

He calls me on Sunday’s and we share all the stories that we’ve probably missed between the distance and time.

He tells me about his childhood, and all of his reasons why

He was never really perfect, and he was never really there.

The childhood he had simply could not compare.

He’s been there as much as he knew how to be.

And then I quickly realize that my Dad’s a lot like me.

He gets a little nervous, and sometimes he runs. It’s a defense mechanism and it’s guarded his heart.

I know that it’s hard, but he’s coming around.

He tells me he loves me. He tells me he’s proud.

See my dad’s the kind of guy that it just takes some time.

He has to realize what he wants. It must come from his mind.

No one else can understand exactly how he feels, so he fills himself up with all that seems real.

And maybe he was wrong. Maybe not, all the same.

But he’s back around now, so I can’t complain.

My dad’s a good man, with a few predispositions.

He’s never going to be a fan of a long term commitment.

So that’s why when we speak, I talk in the now. I tell him how life is, not how it’s supposed to turn out.

And in return he tells me what he cooked for supper. He tells me his back hurts, but he’ll probably work more.

My dad is a hustler, I get that from him. But we never speak of the past. It’s not good conversation.

Because we’re both stubborn, and we’re both full of pride. Whatever argument was there has long since subsided.

And I love this man who calls me to say “I’m sending you groceries. And have a good day.”

Because this man does the best that he can. He loves me and shows me in the strangest of ways,

And in that moment I know that I wouldn’t trade my life for the world.

Because no one ever really wanted to be that boring, normal girl.