by Steven P. Velasquez
Oct. 7, 2011
Few people in my life know that I’ve made some changes over
the recent past and fewer still know why.
Suffice it to say the reasons are personal and it matters not who’s at
fault. When it comes to human
relationships and parenting, the only people that truly matter are the children
and immediate family members.
A little over a week ago while my
Facebook account was
blowing up with literally hundreds of birthday wishes (which I truly appreciate
and admit they helped me greatly while dealing with said issue), my life at
home had finally burst at the seams and required drastic change. It was time to leave. That realization was made years ago, but for
reasons economic had not yet manifested.
Now, ready or not, it had just become too much and required immediate
action. Fortunately, thank God, my
parents were kind enough to open their arms and say “Come home son.”
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Pay no attention to the man
behind the curtain
|
After working a night shift, I had spent the entire day (my
birthday) loading a trailer with my immediate needs, my laptop, camera
equipment, toiletries, lots of uniforms and a few civilian clothes. Like a refugee fleeing a hostile government,
I packed what I could fit and travelled north.
I couldn’t care less about moving away from the person I was living with
but was absolutely devastated over the idea of leaving my four year-old
daughter as this seemingly repeating pattern had happened once before when her
older sister was five. The tearing at my
heart was unbearable and balanced only by the occasional glances at my phone
and the constant deluge of kind words and birthday wishes. I didn’t want to ruin it by posting something
like “please stop wishing me a happy birthday, I’m moving out and leaving my
daughter today,” so I just kept replying with the thank you’s and expressions
appreciative. Like the
Wizard of Oz behind his curtain, I hid behind the veneer of my beaming smile on my Facebook
profile pic, all the while huddled in a corner, saddened and unsure of how I
was going to handle this. I missed my
baby already.
I got home and my parents and sister greeted me with open
arms and heavy hearts themselves as they wondered; “What about the baby? When
will we see her?” I reassured them, all
would be fine. My phone kept vibrating
and chiming; “Have a great birthday, hope you’re spending the day smiling with
family and friends!” “Happy birthday big
guy, hope you’re not working like always!”
Yes I am. I worked the night
before, am moving all day today, and will return to work tonight again.
My parents tried to make me comfortable and cleaned out my
childhood bedroom that was now their office and place for all things preparatory
(ironing, makeup, hair etc…). We went to
the basement and retrieved one of the trundle beds I had purchased for my older
daughters and assembled it hastily. My
mother purchased new bedding material for my birthday in an effort to give me a
“practical” gift. Funny thing about
getting older, you go from getting awesome gifts like toys, and things you can
play with to toiletries, clothing and – bedding materials. Practical.
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The tree comes to life and plucks
the little boy from his bedroom
window in the 1982 movie "Poltergiest"
|
The following day, I returned to Rutherford with another
truck load of stuff and was ready to get some shut-eye & test my new “practical”
sheets. The bed was positioned beneath
the window I used to look out at in terror during hurricanes and storms as the
tree-branches seemed to come to life and want to reach in and grab me (too much
watching “
Poltergeist” I suppose). The
window I used to dream beneath on a winter’s night when, if you listened
closely enough, the Christmas arrangement of illuminated bells would issue a
soft ding dong sound as their filaments waxed and waned with transient bursts of
energy. The window where I made a heinous
discovery one Christmas Eve! Riddled
with anxiousness, I couldn’t sleep and eagerly awaited the sound of hoof-prints
on my rooftop. Instead, I heard the opening
and closing trunk of the 1971 Oldsmobile Cutlas Supreme (gold with a black
vinyl rooftop), not a single tiny reindeer to be found. When what to my wondering eyes did appear? The
stark realization that I had been betrayed all these years! Santa Claus, Saint
Nick, the jolly old elf that was supposed to drop down my chimney was dressed as
a Peruvian factory worker! Eh, that’s
ok, he still brought me cool, exciting, non-practical gifts.
It's good to be home.
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