Caedmon Comma

My Son,

I, your father, feel like a bastard.

Of course, 'bastard' has multiple meanings. I suppose I often feel like a bastard in the slang meaning of the word. However, at this present moment, I'm referring to the older more literal meaning of the word.

bastard (plural bastards) A person who was born out of wedlock and hence often considered an illegitimate descendant.

I was up all night last night and the word that reverberated in my head, the word that kept me up, was 'family.' I used to belong to something. I used to be part of a family. There was a father and a mother, and brothers and sisters galore. The Family gave me meaning and truth, and hope stained every intention.

The Family and I had a falling out. So, here I am, without it.

I didn't stomp out pouting, and they didn't give me the boot. In fact, many siblings are surprised to find out I am so bastardized. They keep acting as if I am still a part of the Family.

I think I woke up one day and realized Our Father had ran out to grab a pack of smokes and took his suitcase with him. I didn't want to disturb the brothers and sisters, so I didn't say anything. Things went on as normal. Nobody seemed to notice. This may seem strange, but He was never really around that much, anyway. So, no big deal. But, finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I sneaked out. I told the brothers and sisters that I would be back.

They weren't concerned. After all, I was just stepping out to get a pack of smokes.

Yet, there I was last night, wondering about my brothers and sisters... wondering about Our Father.

He may have been a deadbeat, and They may have been a naive bunch of Pollyannas, but they are family. I miss them. I remember the songs we used to sing, even after Our Father went out for smokes. I recall how eagerly we awaited His return - how every passing car was a heart palpitation. I remember how the walls were painted with hope.


Your Father