Short Story Idea

Forgotten Father.

All my life, I’ve held onto the hope of you and I making up for lost time. When I was younger, it was the only thing I wished for every birthday and holiday season. For, my hope to be rewarded. 

Yet, here I am, waiting for you at the restaurant on my 28th birthday. The restaurant you chose and “promised” you’d be at waiting for me. 

I’m not, even surprised. I stopped being hurt by being let down by you a long time ago. 

Because somehow, no matter what, everything always comes back to you.                                                   *                                                                      *                                                                       *

I’m gonna pay this check, leave the waiter a good tip, and finish packing for my trip tomorrow. The short backpacking trip I invited you to, to give you yet another chance to prove…you actually wanted to be there for me. To share some of my happiness with you.

That’s all I wished for pops, every birthday, every year…

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“28…I’ve done more than I ever expected to but not at all in the ways I thought. Kinda, cool really.

“Still, I can’t help but feel as though something’s missing…some, final form of connection…”

What does it mean, to be me? What does it mean…what do I mean, in the grand scheme of it all?

“Honestly…very little. Haha, that should be a depressing and horrible thought but I find it…relieving. Haha. To know that, not everything revolves around me. To know my life, is my life…

“True, it affects a multitude of things in terms of how the world might operate but, what I am and who I choose to be, are all that I need to worry about from moment to moment.”

Water rushes in the distance.

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“My favorite element.”

Maybe a bit of meditation…

*Inhale* *Exhale*

“What have I accomplished?”

*Inhale* *Exhale*

What have I helped others accomplish for themselves?

*Inhale* *Exhale*

“Who am I now…”

Who do I want to be in the future?

“The present presents, uniquely unknown essence; innocence in a sense. Universal common sense, built with whimsical confidence; we’re both performers and the audience in this sometimes estranged stage of a world.”

What do I do, What have I done…

“Stage…stages, ranges of movements carrying us through so we can do what is true, or at least pursue, some form of clue…”

What have I done…as I’ve grown into a man from a son?

“Observe, detect, inspect, sometimes reject but combine in order to create the full pictures left behind in retrospect; only letting themselves be known once we reflect…even if , it feels a bit backwards.”

Reflect? Awe yes, my wavy reflection in water.

“Obscure, how, often times, the cure to an ailment is found in the cause itself. How, direct. What we seek most is imperfect, we fool ourselves into thinking it’s not worth it and thus over correct because we expect…so little of ourselves: we refuse to see, truthfully…”

Who I am…has always been enough.

What do I do…what have I done? I’ve grown up to be everything I always wanted and needed when I was a kid. I’ve, become something I never knew existed by refusing to give up hope. 

I always wished, that one day someone would hold me close and let me know I was enough. I wanted, desperately at times, for some kind of loving figure to help show me exactly how I fit in and where I belong. 

That father figure, I’d one day hope to meet and know…was growing up inside me, all along.

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-Gustavo Lomas