Mi Padre

When I called last Christmas, he asked me how it was in New York. I told him I didn’t know, I have never lived there. My sister lives there, and I think he was confusing us. 

He then wondered why I had called. 

“It’s Christmas,” I said.

“Oh, it’s Christmas,” he mumbled.

 Too many years of hard drinking and drugs have left him a shadow of a man.

 I don’t call too often.

 

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One thought on “Mi Padre

  1. Mine doesn’t drink or do drugs. He’s a workaholic who wanted his first child to be a boy. He got me and is enraged at how unwomanly, meaning, indomitable, I am. Sadly, I don’t live in another city, but really, given how little he understands about who I am, it’s as if I live in a completely other world.

    Sorry about that conversation. It sounds painful.

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