my father is a hard man. i don’t remember many times where he’s been genuinely happy. it seems his only interest in the world is cars. he would always, no matter where we lived, come home from work, eat dinner, and then go promptly out to the garage or shop to work on a car and drink a whole lotta liquor. he wouldn’t speak to any of us unless he was telling us our work ethic needed to improve, or something along the lines of “you are not yet what you need to be.”
he owned a car dealership for most of my life. it caused him great pain when things weren’t selling well and he would take it out on all of us. his mercies were limited, if even existent, and he remained silent when he knew he’d not done right by us.
once he found me crying in the kitchen. i was sitting in the dark at the table, with just a bit of light on my skin from a lamp in the living room. my father walked in holding a glass of bourbon and coke and sat down in front of me.
“what’s wrong with you?”
“i’m alright.”
“stephanie, you are beautiful.”
“daddy, i–”
“that’s all.” and he walked away, his boots so loud on the floor that it sounded as though there was nothing covering the woodwork. it was the only time i’ve felt comforted by my father, except from probably infancy.
when i was too young to have felt this way, though i don’t know that there is an ideal age, i could so verily feel pain that i didn’t know if i would make it all my life that way. if a disabled or upset person would walk into the room, i had to leave. i didn’t do it because i didn’t care, it was mostly because i cared too much. i knew that something was not right in the world, that these people who would give me candy and let me sit on their laps did not deserve what they’d been subjected to. i believe my father was also this way at some point, and life wore on him, for whatever reason. he learned early on that sometimes believing in hope proves fruitless.
i’m seeing this more and more in myself. today i sat beside amanda while we were making some silly video. she looked so young and pleasant, laughing and all. i sat beside her, just as humored, but i noticed i have a hard face these days. i look like i could cry at any moment. i look weathered. stern. not curious or bright. i don’t mind. i don’t feel the same way. i think i’ve learned a bit of life lately. of life and myself. the beauty in my face and in my soul, is dying, the youthful wonder and the lively eyes, and i’m glad for it to die. i’ll let it rest.
that doesn’t mean that i can’t have a good story or a falling star absolutely bring me to tears every time, it’s just that beauty speaks new words to me. it means that i’m no longer dancing in the moonlight and now i’m lying on my back, watching the world resolve itself, and smiling on my own. like the “in love” feeling that once was has turned into patience and understanding. i still love life, just differently than i did before. as though the dawn is fading forever. and i see people just like me everywhere, and i feel that i understand them. i can smile and keep walking without a word, cause i know all about those who make the decision to walk through the desert and find the oasis–sometimes you get hammered into the dusty ground and all you can do is lay there and try to enjoy the rain when it comes. and sometimes you die out there. but sometimes you find it. it may be nothing like what you expected. in fact, it probably won’t be, but it’s there. there is peace to be had. and, though i’ve only had small glimpses of it in the past, and though i feel as if i’ve been lying in the rain for years, i know it’s out there somewhere. i know it is. and i will rest there with my father, with my mother, with my brother, with jake, with amanda, with you, with the fallen and the victors, if only in my mind, the world will slumber, the dawn will fade, the horn will sound, and our eroded faces will watch it all. we’ll understand, i believe.