I’ve learned a lot about love this year. About loss. About passion. About fixing things and breaking things. The funny thing is, once you learn about love, you start to understand people and why they do things. Why they run, why they fight, and why they put up walls. People are messed up but that’s because we are fighting. Fighting our minds and fighting those who hurt us or neglect us. We are running, chasing, loving, forgiving. And I finally understand why.
I smiled at myself in the mirror of the RV. It was a gentle smile, to give myself grace and see myself as getting better. I was holding two boxes full of clothing. Here I go again. I shook my head. Why do I always run? Why am I constantly moving from the RV, to my dad’s house, to my mom’s house, and to long drives to avoid all of them. I don’t know how many times I’ve driven a car full of clothing and shoes just to settle myself in a place where I felt more comfortable and less angry. Except this time, I couldn’t drive myself. I wasn’t allowed to drive my car. For a very long time.
Just the night before, me and my dad had been yelling. Again. He got an inch away from my nose, his eyes fiery and desperate, knowing he was losing the fight for my obedience and respect.
“I am done playing your game!” he growled.
I didn’t flinch. “Then stop playing it.”
“Your phone is gone. Forever. You’re not getting it back.” He walked back, like he was going to get my phone, but then came back, knowing he could get it later, that I would give it up. I wasn’t going to fight him anymore.
“I don’t care. Take whatever you want.”
He sat back in the recliner, like he had lost and buried his head in his hands, his eyes darting down and then back up at me, “Why? Why do you do this?”
I moved my lips slightly, thinking of what to say. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to say anything. I already won in my mind. I gave up control and once I did that, it didn’t hurt anymore.
“You are the most rebellious kid I have ever had. You know that?” He acted like I had some kind of disease.
I didn’t budge. I’ve learned to numb myself to his words. I’ve learned to just be okay with the blows.
So here I was, again, driving away in my mom’s suburban. The one my dad had bought her last Christmas to try to make her stay. But she wasn’t there for the materialistic, so his attempt was in vain.
We drove down the curvy road that was slightly covered in mid-February snow.
“Oh, that’s your dad,” my mom said.
They both rolled down their windows to have a friendly conversation. I think the conversation was supposed to be between me and my dad, but I wasn’t paying attention.
I looked up and didn’t smile. I lifted my hand, then went back to not paying attention.
“Well, she can be with me after the surgery…”
They were talking back and forth about where I should stay after my knee surgery. It was still crazy that it was on Friday.
“It’s okay, I’m going to be her momma for that, I want to take care of her.”
We drove our separate ways. For now. We will see how long I last at the apartment before running from there, too.