Second Chances

It’s funny. When I was a kid, growing up, my parents were never around. They were always dedicated workaholics. I never saw them at dinner, I never saw them on weekends, I never saw them period. They would be away at work for 14 hours a day. When I woke up, they’d be gone. When I got home from school, they were missing. When I sat down to have dinner, they were still at work. Anyway, it pained me not to have my parents around for the better part of my first 18 years. Admittedly, my father now says that he never saw me and and never knew me. That’s the sad part of it all, they don’t know me, and I don’t know them.

I’m an adult now and both of them have tried to connect with me. Particularly my father. He always asks me how my life is going, what I’m doing, sometimes he’ll call me with the most insignificant information, like he’s going out to dinner with friends, he’ll be home at 11, and just wanted to let me know. Like I give a flying fuck what he’s doing with his Friday nights. It’s really kinda funny and cute how they both try to saddle up to me now that they are old and realize that they aren’t getting any younger, and time isn’t slowing down, and that they might only have another 15 or 20 years to live this life, so, might as well get to know their son before it’s too late. It used to hurt when they weren’t around for stuff. Now I don’t think I care anymore. I don’t think I’ve cared in years whether or not they’re around. I simply got used to their absence. And once you get really used to something, it’s incredibly difficult to go back.

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