Dancing in the car

Couldn't pay attention today. The day was so long and people just kept on talking about things that I just don't understand. I had to walk back to my car on crutches after sitting in a meeting room for 10 hours. I wanted to cry. To wallow in the meaninglessness of it all. I really wanted to come home and be grumpy. To be mad at the whole world! And maybe a little part of me will be... But I got into the car and I danced all the way home. (I even danced to "the Climb" by Miley Cyrus)... An admission that may knock me down a little, but I will get back up... haha. I let go and I went car dance crazy. It was great. Just those few minutes of mental freedom.

It makes me wonder if my dad ever had moments like that. If he ever just let himself be goofy and fun and free. I never knew that side of him. The free side, the happy side. I never really saw him be a person. I always saw him be this once in a while mythical type figure that was so unhappy. He was angry and grouchy and I can't remeber what he looked like when he smiled. I'm sure I saw it... maybe, but I really don't remeber.

Did he ever dance in the car? Did he have rhythm? Did he sing along when nobody was looking?

The dad I knew drank while he drove. He smoked until it ate him from the inside. He cursed me for wanting a life without the pain of his presence. And I was no better, because I torchered myself, maybe I always will, because I think about him every day. Every single day.

Maybe that is what drives me to dance in the car... or sing in the grocery store. Maybe I have to make myself unlike him. But who knows... maybe he did those things. I really wish I knew. I wish he had been a different man. Or maybe that I could have been a different daughter to him.

He didn't say goodbye. Not once ever did he think to call... and I didn't either. It makes me sad to think that I will never have that moment with him. No moments with him...

So I will dance in the car. And I will choose to think that he had some good times... he had to. He loved the outdoors and he wanted to be free. I am like that.... I have the same wave in my hair that he had and maybe I got my creative spirit from him. He loved Westerns and I love them too. So I will dance in my car... and chose to believe that he was happy at least for a while in his life.

Maybe I will not cry so much if I think of him that way. Maybe I will miss him less if I can think of him happy. It makes me feel kind of empty when I think of him hating the majority of his life... So instead, I will dance in my car.