Micah

She waited on me at the eye doctor yesterday. She looked familiar, & she laid the precursor by letting me know that she was still in training. 

She was kind, and honest. She said I was "hip",  👀 and fun, & said she was impressed because the square sunglasses with the rounded corners that I chose were "so trendy", "so 70's!" she said. 

    "Hey!! I was THERE!" I kidded! 

"I was 5 & started kindergarten in the 70's." I warned her.                I ended up getting two pair -- the "cool shades" & the ones that match my true-new hair color. She politely 

asked for my payment of $1,000.00 & thanked me for my patience in the process. I complemented how well I thought she did and thanked her for being so sweet in the process. And then I said, "Tell me again... what's your name?"

"It's Micah," she said sweetly. "I hope you have a great day," she smiled.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

In the 40 seconds that it took me to walk to my car & get in, it was as if time had whooshed backwards 40 years... I sat for a minute on the scorching summer seat, & I couldn't believe the feelings that washed over my memory like a wild uncontrollable wave that had unexpectedly come crashing onto the shore. 

It felt like time stood still for what seemed like a long, long time... Micah. A trigger of sadness from my growing up without a dad years came flooding over me.

You see, Micah represented hope. Micah represented family. Micah represented being lost, left behind, unloved, & found again. Micah was the little sister I wished for, but I never had. And never really have...

Micah's grandpa Al was dating my mom. Al had talked about marriage with my mom. And mom was excited about the possibility of marrying again. We were planning to move into Al's house on the corner of Avenue J. 

One day, out of the blue, Al was faced with task of having to raise his granddaughter, Micah, because her mom walked away and left her. I was excited about the possibility of having a little sister as precious as Micah. Al seemed like a potential father figure that seemed to cherish the me & love me for who I was... not who he expected me to be.  And then one day, out of the blue, a Dear John letter shattered my mom's hopes & mine. Without even so much as a goodbye, Al was gone... & so was Micah.

I'll never know just what happened between Al & my mom... pr why he darted out of Dodge so quickly without warning. Maybe he freaked out when he found out how controlling my mom is? 💁 That's reasonable. Maybe she was just too needy... but so was I. 

I needed a dad who loved me, who was there for me, and who adored me.  But Al wasn't the man for the job.

And then there was Jim. Oh how I loved Jim! Even moreso than Al, honestly. Jim was a true gem, with a heart of gold! He treated mom like a queen, and his own daughters, Jenny & Karen, were very swayed by their mother's opinion of their dad. But I loved how Jim treated me. Jim was a gentleman. And Jim was always open and honest with his thoughts. Jim wanted mom to marry him, but she declined. I don't know why... but something kept her from sharing her heart again, after he heart was crushed by Al.

Mine, too.

And then there was Bob. Farmer Bob, in the baggy denim overalls, and that little red Toyota pickup truck filled with shovels & tubes, and all sortsa junk. 

Bob's heart was beautiful, but his face was scarred. Bob had tried to take his own life, sometime in the past before he met mom, and his mouth and nose had been repaired as well as possible, but his eyes always seemed to be sad & longing. It was Bob who let me ride his beautiful horse across the pasture as fast as she would gallop. I rode that beautiful girl like a seasoned rider, and nothing could compare to the joy I felt as I rode alone in the field as the sun glistened on the river nearby. Bob had children too, but they didn't keep in contact with him much. So I became his favorite, too! 

Funny, after all these years... 40 to be exact, the memory of loss that I had two opportunities to have a father figure in my life, but for some reason, my mom just wasn't ready to take that leap, for her own happiness.

She, too, was holding on to false hope that my dad would return, and say all the things that she'd prayed he would say to her, for her whole life. Like, 

I'm sorry I cheated.

I'm sorry I hurt you.

I'm sorry I left you and my 2 kids for Cheryl, my adultery accomplice. 

I'm sorry I put her first, even though it cost me my relationship with my own 2 kids. 

I'm sorry I left & came back, only to break your trust again & again.

But the apologies never came, and we were left with those open scars, left to heal them without the healing balm of facing his own worst enemy... the Truth.

I don't know why it surprises me, that with just one simple word... Micah, and all of these hurtful realizations came flooding into my memory all at once. 

What did Micah represent for me? Was it the hope that someone, finally someone would see me, and need me, and love me, and help me find joy in the midst of my deep sadness, & loneliness, and longing to belong to a family again?

I think it was the nurturing that I wasn't getting, hadn't gotten, that I felt that if I could give back to someone so small and unable to understand why life sucks so badly sometimes, it would somehow help heal my hurting heart. 

During the time after Micah, I remember dad calling and asking how we'd like to have a little baby brother or a baby sister. 

From the most honest place in my heart I said, "I'd rather have a puppy."

I don't remember what he said in response to that, nor could I even imagine what he expected me to say, but yesterday I think I finally realized why I hurt so much when dad was gone...

Not only did he leave without even so much as saying goodbye...

so did Micah & Al, & Jim, & Bob.

absquatulate (v) 

to leave without saying goodbye.