Is Mike Home Part 3

The people of Sweetwater had always been very friendly. It was also the kind of town where you couldn't sneeze without the local drugstore calling to ask if you need a box of Kleenex. We stopped at some mom and pop gas station/diner to ask for directions. I walked inside and found two men in their mid to late sixties talking about the weather (no joke). I directed my question to the man on the left wearing a green John Deere hat. He had never heard of Kirkland Street but asked the waitress pouring coffee. The waitress and John Deere's friend argued for a while but finally came up with a route to get us to our destination. Jeffrey and I climbed back in the car and headed towards Service Road 472. We traveled up and down the road but never found the turn off they told us to take. I stopped at a Diary Queen to call my mom and let her know I was okay. While we were there the idea came to me that we should ask a police officer for directions. A very kind man in a large red truck, accompanied with his son, led us to the police station. I walked up to the white building, that looked more like strip shopping than a safe haven, and knocked on the door. After waiting a while I knocked again...and again. Listening carefully for noises inside we heard country music playing around back. We walked around the side of the building to find the door open and no one in the office. After calling hello a man emerged and asked if we needed help. I explained the situation to Officer Jackal who kindly offered help. He pulled out his detailed map of the city and began to draw his own map. We thanked him and headed back for the car. I was full of a mix of emotions. I was so close to knowing the truth now.

As Jeffrey drove I rehearsed all the things I might say if I found him. Would I tell him how angry I was for all the pain he had caused me and my family? Would I throw my arms around his neck and be thankful he was still alive? Did he even want to be found?

I wasn't sure.

Is Mike Home? Part two

Time passed and I tried to convince myself that Charlie had not found the right Mike. There was no need for me to worry.

I couldn't shake the feelings.

I came to a conclusion; the only way I would find peace again would be to find him myself and to see with my own two eyes that he was okay. The first thing I needed to start my search was a little help. I went to see my stepbrother Matt, who I also hadn't seen in years, to see if he had any information about Stephen and Debie, my stepmother. Matt gave me the last address he had for them but told me that if I did find Stephen not to let him know where I got the address. I saw no reason to worry Matt with my phone call from Charlie.

Two weeks later I started my trip with my friend Jeffrey. Our first stop was Cherry Blosom. I stepped out of the car and took in all the sights; the trailer that held many memories of visits with my father, the old tree swing that I spend hours on, and the woods that we played hide -n- seek and war in. It was all still there. I walked up the steps and peered into the almost completely covered windows to see furniture still in place. I descended the steps to walk around back. I found our scooters still sitting under the trailer where we had left them, covered in age, dirt and spiders. To my surprise I found my father's chair outside and weathered. I couldn't imagine him leaving that behind. My eyes filled with tears remembering times when I had crawled into his lap and other times where I watched him drink beer after beer in that very chair. I couldn't find the words to tell Jeffrey what I was feeling. All I could say was, "It's dad's chair.". We spent some time walking in the woods while I shared childhood memories with him. I took him on walks to places I had not been to for almost a decade. I believe I went back to this place first to prepare myself for a world I had long ago put away. In my mind, my father had ceased to exist seven years ago when we had last spoke.

Hours had passed and I wanted to begin my real search now.

Is Mike Home? Part one

For the next few days I will be posting an old narrative I had to write for college. I will break it up into sections so you won't be bored to death. I am going to attempt to have a garage sale soon and this will let me get a break from blogging to work.

I don't claim to be a writer by any means but I did get an "A" on it. I, of course, will be changing names of places and people for my own privacy. Some names will be changed just to hold down confusion as some names were too similar.

Is Mike Home?

I had not seen my father in seven years so the night I received the phone call asking if he had passed away came unexpectedly. I was watching some no name magician on TV when the phone rang. A man, by the name of Charlie, asked if I knew Mike Thompson. I explained my father's name is Stephen Michael Thompson but he had gone by Mike as a child. Expecting Charlie to be one of many solicitors or another bill collector looking for my father I irritably asked what it was he needed. He began to explain to me that he was a friend of a friend looking for Mike because they had heard he passed away. Dread flew into my heart and many questions entered my mind and yet Charlie kept speaking. He wanted to know if my father had ever been to California. More fear tightened my throat as I tried to answer his question. My voice quivered as I answered yes. Stephen spent his basic training there in the sixties. Charlie asked more questions and I answered as many as I could. There were so many questions I wanted to ask but he wouldn't have the answers. We ended our conversation, neither one of us satisfied wit the outcome. He was still uncertain if my Mike was the right man and I was left wondering if my father was alive.

Brendon: "Hey Mom! What's that squishy thing on your tongue?"

Jeffrey: "That IS her tongue Bear."

Flashback Friday

It's been so long since I have done a flashback friday I am almost to embarressed to try and start it up again. It's been nearly three months. I blogged before about how Timbo looked somewhat like Jesse as a baby, but going through photos again he now looks like Jared at around age one. Funny, huh? Now don't judge to closely because it was hard to get photo's of the exact face that Timbo makes that makes them look so similar at times. Did that just make sense?

I think it's mostly in the chuncky cheeks, nose, and brown eyes.

~~Tell me, who do your kids look like?~~

Timbo's first year

Miss Esther Sophia
(I just love those bare feet)