Release repost

Oh, dear dad, can you see me now
I am myself, like you somehow
I'll ride the wave where it takes me
I'll hold the pain, release me

We'd driven down to Galveston. I always liked the idea of Galveston, even if the reality was never what I was looking for. It was always too sandy, too fishy, too filled with sweaty Houstonians looking for a cheap beach. Later on I learned that not all ocean is the Gulf, not all beaches are the Bay. But this day, we walked along, picking up shells, attacking each other with seaweed, we had a good day. We went up to the Strand to scrounge something to eat--wound up at a soda fountain. Got a bag of sourballs and started walking to the car. It was getting late in the day and I had to work at Walmart in the morning.

We took the long way, heading south down through San Luis Pass, to Freeport, and then up 288. It was dark when we got to the Brazoria County Airport. For old times sake, we agreed, and pulled off the road. Watched the moon come up, sitting on the back of the car. You were getting antsy, and I thought it was the darkness, or the possibility of making out (which was an open possibility, frankly).

Your dad had called the night before. And you'd been looking all day for an opportunity to tell me about it. It was the first time you'd spoken to him in several years. And it set you back. As always, you'd managed to tamp it down until the night got dark enough to try to say.

Dating fatherless boys, lemme tell ya, ain't no stroll down the beach.