Hope

Sometimes it's not strong enough.

The thunderstorm wasn't letting it's guard down.  I rested my head against the water-stained pexi-glassed window and tried to breath.  If he were to come today, would he stay?  And if he stayed, I knew in all my heart that I would forgive him and welcome him home with open arms.  I couldn't wait for him to come with his BMW car and call me his little princess again.  But, the last time he did that was ten years ago.  There was little hope he was coming back.  But, I really really wanted to believe that and, besides, it was my sweet sixteen.  How could any father miss their daughter's sweet sixteen?  If he didn't show up...well, then, I'd give up ever being able to see his face again.  Or, hug him.  Or, kiss his scratchy cheek, slightly unshaven.  Or, smell his jacket's cigarette stench, but I know it was comforting.  At least, he was always home.  And, now, this was the chance he might come back to visit me...or come back for good.  I knew he gave up on Mom, but that didn't mean he had to give up on me either.  I bit my lip and brushed the hair out of my eyes and wrote some more into my journal.  I heard the door squeak open and I turned my head.

       "Honey?  Aren't you coming down?  Max is already here." Mom said, her head peeping out.  Her eyes weren't as perky as her voice and I could tell she knew what I was thinking about.

      "I'll be...down in a minute." I mummbled and turned back to my journal.

      She sighed and sat down by my side.  "He's not coming, you know that?  I know you--"

      "Mom."  I said, staring back at her big, brown eyes and tried to smile.  How could I be mad at her?  It wasn't her fault, but sometimes I wonder if she had driven him away.  "I know."

      She bit her lip and drew me into a hug.  "Happy sweet sixteen!"

      "Yeah, thanks." 

      When she left the room, I stared back at the reflection in the mirror.  Then, back at the window and back at the mirror.  I noticed I had my dad's eyes.  But, they were just eyes and they would never replace the father I once had.  But, maybe, he was never a real father after all.  I walked out of the room and I abstained myself from looking out the window for one last time.

Author's Note

I don't know...just something I thought up.

Reviews

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Very sad. I can feel the pain through the words. A great story.