I Looked for My Father

I looked for my father in the cold nights when the shadows scared me and the moon was of no mind to provide any comfort.  I looked for him in the crowds of Dads scooping up their boys, giving their girls rides on their broad, powerful shoulders.  I looked for my father coming down the avenue, coming home to me and my brother and my mother because that was the only place in the world he really wanted to be.  I looked for my father.  They told me that he wasn’t lost…but I couldn’t find him.

I looked for my father in the fragile hearts of my uncles, in the hopeful eyes of my mother’s lovers and would-be lovers, in the smiles of other fathers who stood by their boys and kept safe their girls, I looked for my father in the glances of strangers and the attentions of wise men who sometimes became mentors.  I looked for my father.  They told me wasn’t really lost…but I really couldn’t find him.

I looked for my father…in the guise of being the husband he wouldn’t be, in the love of being father to children I didn’t create, in the bittersweet joy of holding the children of the children I didn’t create.  I even looked for my father in the eyes of my father…but I didn’t find him.