There are only a handful of restaurants that my parents can decide to eat at- if our taste buds are particular and unbending approaching dinner time then we just go our separate ways. So it’s almost 8 pm, I haven’t eaten dinner, and I’ve just taken a shot of espresso.
Don’t get me wrong- I love hanging out with my parents. But there comes a point in our hangouts when I drift towards the thought of loneliness – that my investment in people are most occupied by my parents and because they don’t have friends, I become their only outlet to see the world in a different light.
My dad feels stuck in Llano- he and my mom moved there in December 2015; the space has been big enough to be our ‘Public Storage’, but for any of us to call that ‘Home’ has been the likes of him trying to spear fish out of water. My dad tries, but my mom is also not mentally well- she is that fish- just wading freely and coursing through rougher waters when she’s either anxious about my well-being or if she’s just gotten into a fight with my dad. I’m sure Llano isn’t exactly the place for her type of species and as she grows older I wouldn’t want her to be farm raised either.
So he wants to move- he’d rather forgo the deposit and break the contract to find new living elsewhere. But this time he wants to be the one living in the truck while my mom and I figure out a living arrangement together.
Mom, I love you, but I can’t be your light. Too many times, I’m too dim to tell you even why. Dad, the spear is in your hands and most times, the only way to catch fish is through patience and perseverance. But there isn’t enough prayer in your heart to wait; you’d rather strike to teach it a lesson, but shouldn’t you be the one learning? You’re blessed- there are fish beneath your nose and an able tool in your hand, but the timing of your heart paces too quickly to know “when” and “why”. I’m not perfect either. Dad, let’s fish together.