So today I have an appointment with my therapist. I plan on talking about how sad I was on Sunday, only realizing yesterday that it was Father's Day. Oh, what a tangled weave of thread that is, my relationship with my father.
My father was gregarious, and handsome. Short of stature, at times thin, at times bloated from way too much drinking; still, attractive. I look nothing like him. My eyes are almond shaped, his round. When my parents adopted me they weren't looking for an asian child. They wanted a child who would fit in with the relatives, one they could take to family reunions where he or she would look like their nieces and nephews. They wanted to have a family story similar to everyone else. Well. I am not that. I am not anything like the child they imagined. Our story is not like everyone else's. Sometimes I wonder if I was a mistake, a choice they made that they regretted in the years that passed, especially during my adolescence.
I'm leaving now to see my therapist so I will stop here. I will need quite a bit of time to tell my story; I hope you stick around.