My Fathers

By L.A. Winnen

March 13th. 2025

When I was young, my mother left my real father.  He never helped with child support or any other way that I remember.  My mother struggled for years.  We were poor, but my mother worked hard to put herself through college and give us a good living.  We would visit him from time to time, but that stopped when I hit 13 years old.  I did not desire to see him any longer.  There was a past and a truth about him that runs my blood cold even to this day.  I wish I could say there was a love there for him, but there is not and will never be.  The person I see as my father is the one my mother married when I was about 10 years old.  He became a part of our lives when I was about 6 years old.  He is the one who taught me the meaning of a dollar and how to read. I struggled in school because of a learning disability, and he is the one who helped me through those struggles.  He taught me table manners, how to have a conversation, and how to hold myself in public. He gave me a love for old classic rock, that made me want to pick up a guitar, and dive into writing my own songs. My mother and I divorced when I was about 14 years old.  It was a traumatic moment in my life.  I did not see him or my little half sister for 11 years.  That is another story.

The existences that shape us and make us who we are can be found in the most unlikely places.  How our parents engage and present themselves to the world will impact our relationship with it.  The people they take as partners.  The choice to go back to school or move from place to place.  They shape who we are when we are young, many times without realizing the impact they have.  What would my life be like now if not for my stepfather?  Or if my mother had stayed with my real father?  Our choices as women can go beyond just ourselves when we have children, they impact.  When fathers choose to be deadbeats or kind people with a wealth of knowledge.  When we have to navigate the world on our own, or when we have a hand to reach out and give a lift up. When we let our trauma dictate our direction, instead of using the calm instinct and intellect, we move with sorrow, other than wisdom.  The dominoes that pave the path with fall regardless, but if we use a little calculated intuition, we will fall onto our feet instead of our hands and knees.