Hey you. I’ve got something to tell you and the best way that I could see to do it was by putting it down on paper. Don’t misunderstand what I am about to say, not every child raised like me will be just like me. After all, once I hit 23, I have to take the blame. We all won’t be single mothers with multiple fertilizers to our seeds. We all won’t seek fathers in lovers or settle for less than what we deserve because we don’t know our worth. We all can’t be what I have become because I have two and what will they become? What you have done to me! And what have you done for me?
The disdain between you & mother, mother & you was far greater than your love for me. My smile wasn’t bright enough, my laugh wasn’t sweet enough, and my hand wasn’t warm enough.
“Later, later, later. When she’s older, it will be better. I will tell her how much I love her and that it is her mother’s fault we couldn’t be together.”
“Later, later, later. One day I will be older and I will tell him about all that he’s missed. I will tell him how much I love him and one day, I will see how it is mommy’s fault.”
But later never comes, it just becomes later and while waiting for later, men twice my age told me what you never did. And then I told them everything I never told you in return. I laid in their laps and had my hair brushed, my blouse straightened, and my bedroom eyes were complimented. “They’re my daddy’s eyes;” and they were Daddy’s eyes indeed.
I did not know it then but I sought you out in bedroom after bedroom whilst I tumbled, skid, and fought thru dysfunctional relationship after relationship improving my craft. And here we are. I am writing you because after twenty-six short years of my unguided life, you have changed your mind. After twenty-six years of later, you have decided that you don’t want to be my father and all I can say is, “later.”