Feather

Nothing

Uncle Paul is working on his car with J.L.. "Wanna Coke?" I asked them.

"Sure but don't bother your dad, he seems to be cranky today." Responds Paul.

"Again? Whats up with him this time?" Asks J.L. in the background.

When I got inside, I heard my dad crying. I peeked into his room to see him sitting on his bed holding a picture frame. His back was to me, I heard short sobs and long breaths of air that softly escaped from his mouth. "Hey. What's up?" I startle him. When he turns, his face is wet with salt water and his eyes are red. The look on his face worries me.

Something isn't right.

"What's wrong?" I timidly ask. He just stares at me for a little while longer, and then he smiles, "You look just like your mom when she was your age." He stood, wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stared at me again. I looked into his deep, tired eyes and saw something that confused me. I could tell he was deep in thought, so deep that – "Well, gotta get to work. See you babygirl. Be nice to uncle Paul and J.L." He kissed me on the forehead as he shuffled off.

* * *

My name's Feather, and this is my story. I grew up in a small town called Heaven, Ohio. I really like it here, the sweet, quiet country side. I'm 16 and I'll be graduating high school a week after my 17th Birthday. I guess it runs in the family to be smart and graduate at an early age... I think. My dad graduated at 16 also, I'm a few months behind. I never met my mother. Now that I think of it, I have never heard my dad say a word about her. I never even had the chance to see a picture! Well, I guess I don't need one if I look just like her when she was "my age".

Believe me, I love my dad. I love how we can sit around and do nothing, crack jokes, make fun of people on TV, and do whatever we want. In all of that, he trusts me and I trust him. We keep the house clean, I keep good grades, but I never had those weird mother-daughter-bonding moments. No nagging, no weird nicknames, no shopping, no nail salons, no "the talk" (except when dad tried to. It was extremely awkward), no picking out different make-up, no one to soothe me with the warm motherly voice after I had a nightmare, no one to kiss my "boo boo" and put a Barbie band-aid on it. Nothing.

I've always wished that one day I'd see her. One day I'd tell her my secret, the secret that was slowly growing inside me. I hoped that day was soon.

But soon is such a unrealistic expectation