Another Moment Passing by...

Chapter 21: They're More Like Tsunami Tides In My Eyes

Chapter 21: They're More Like Tsunami Tides In My Eyes

*Sydney's P.O.V.*

A huge smile spread across my face as we turned down the familiar road. The road I grew up on. The road I would ride my bike across with my best friends in the spring and play kickball on with the neighborhood kids in the summer. It was a pretty small road for Tennessee, but there weren't many houses. It was a nice place to grow up, and as much as I had imagined what it would be like to grow up in a city, I've always loved that I was raised in a small town. My heart warmed and I swore I could've cried as we pulled up to our quaint little home. I'm such a mama's girl, it's ridiculous. I always loved going home. Nothing ever went wrong there, besides the absence of a father figure.

I had always wondered what it would be like to be sitting at the kitchen table, doing my math homework and watching the door around 4:58, waiting for a man in a suit to burst through the door at five o'clock. What would it be like to build block towers with a man whose chuckle could light up a room? How would it feel to have your own personal Superman? What would it be like to have a father who called you his princess and let you dance on his feet whilst you were giggling in dress-up gowns? All these thoughts and vague, only imaginable fantasies got the best of me and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I try to stay strong for the ones I love, but to be honest I'm actually quite emotionally unstable. "Just take a deep breath, baby," my mama cooed from beside me, planting a loving kiss on my cheek before climbing out of the car. I had barely noticed we had pulled into the driveway. I blinked the pain away, legs shaking as my clumsy hands fuddled with the seatbelt buckle. I hadn't realized how nervous I was until now. I slammed the car door shut, flinching as I did so. My heart began pounding harder and harder as realization dawned on me, the thought finally processing that the man who conceived me, left me, was waiting for me behind that familiar screen door. The screen door that squeaked and slammed and cried and yelped every morning, afternoon, and evening. Even though the man waiting for me was my technical father, all he really was was a stranger. I had no clue who this man was, nor did he know who I was. I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest, a bird flapping about madly, banging against the cage in a desperate attempt at freedom as my mother smiled at me encouragingly, opening the memorable dark green door.

Everything was the way I had left it. You were still greeted by a creaky, narrow wooden staircase, still covered in the pink floral carpeting that I had always found revoltingly atrocious. As horrible as it was, it now seemed so welcoming after parting from it for so long. On either side of the staircase you still had the left option of the small bathroom or the right option of the small, cozy parlor. Routinely, mama and I chose the latter option, entering the cluttered space. The carpet was still the same pink floral pattern to match the stairs. The mantle above the ever-dormant fireplace was still adorned with multiple pictures of my mother and me from various past occasions. The rocker still sat isolated in the corner, the outdated white couch still pressed against the wall facing the window that exposed the vast front lawn. Everything was the same. Except for the strange man who was getting up off of the sofa, a huge grin spreading across his face.

I'm not quite sure what I was expecting; a man in a business suit, maybe khakis and a red tee shirt ready to play a game of catch. You know, stereo-typical dads. I should've known my mom would never go for a man like that. She was always drawn to men in open button-down plaid flannels with a plain black shirt underneath, blue jeans, and caramel Timberland boots, much like the man standing in front of me. I smiled back timidly, suppressing the urge to squirm as his predictably green eyes flickered over my body in a slight sense of disbelief. He had light brown hair atop his head and slight stubble sprouting around his straight toothed smile. He had lines protruding from the sides of his eyes when he smiled, and a straight nose which I obviously didn't inherit. (Mine was quite botton-like.) "Wow," he breathed, both of us still taking each other in. My mother stood off to the side, smiling through her obvious discomfort. Ah, my mother, always trying to please others.