Thursday, February 17, 2011


My father abandoned us when I was about three years old. We grew up without him. We did see him occasionally at places, but for the most part, he wasn’t in our lives.

Until a few years ago, that is. Around then, he began to take us to his condo out in Virginia Beach and we would visit with him and our stepmother, Tracy. It was really nice, and though it could never make up for all the time we lost, it was a nice gesture.

It was fun. Really. But above all, …we felt loved, for the first time in our lives.

But our mother’s mental state declined. The uneasiness at home increased. I wanted to escape.

I thought my father would want to fight for custody. I thought he would try to save us.

But… as you can see, he hasn’t.


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