The smell of the wet fall leaves are the only thing bringing me peace right now. I can’t believe I even decided to come out here in the first place. Did my father really think that a treasure hunt was going to be the best way to say his last goodbye? I mean, hello? I’m not five anymore, dad. I may have thought it was fun when I was little, but I’m 30 now. And just because you left when I was a kid, doesn’t mean I didn’t grow up. This is the last time I listen to voice of reason. And by voice of reason I mean my husband. It’s obnoxious how he can talk sense into me regardless the level of my stubbornness.

My father suddenly found god a few years back and decided to attempt to reconnect. I had long moved on from any hope or want of him coming home. He left my mother and I when I was 10 without giving up even a single tear. My therapist says that when you’re an addict, you are devoid of emotion and that need and craving is all that drives you day after day. The only means of living. I just can’t imagine living life like that so I can’t bring myself to accept it. Needless to say, though he tried to reconnect all these years later, I can’t bring myself to forgive him.

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