⁹

Someday, maybe, I won't flinch at the sound of fireworks.

Or maybe, at least, they'll go back to meaning the crackle of sparklers, fudge w/ Nana, the way my mom's eyes lit up taking photos of the night sky over Lake Superior, a night where my parents never fought.

For now, at least its the 5th.

⁸

I want the 4th of July back.

You don't always get what you want. So I'll have to settle for trying to act less like him, more like our mothers, & hope that someday, the smile in the mirror – while it will *always* have its fangs – looks as much like Mom's as everyone says it does.

⁸

I hate her.

She looks just like him.

Mommy would've loved that I'm taking care of "daddy's curls" again.

My hair-care products taste like lemon cupcakes and cyan*de.

I want my parents back.

⁷

It doesn't know how to maintain friendships, & would rather watch from the sidelines than risk being told that she's "too much" - or was unwelcome to begin with. Would rather be too busy with something, like he always was, bc people can't cancel plans that you never try to make.

⁶

Too frequently, I find my father's daughter still. And it's not "Daddy's princess" — it's this volatile thing that was taught to bite or isolate. That finds comfort in bloody fangs, & would prefer a self-assigned silent room for weeks than the burn of a singular unanswered phone call.

⁵

When I look in the mirror, I desperately want to see my mother's son. Somebody she'd be proud of. I think maybe that I'm still not done becoming him, & that's why he can be so tricky to see.

Often, I find their scared grand-baby instead. I give that grace; it's got too many reasons to be afraid.

⁴
Thar night changed everything.

I think it's the day that I started to lose Dad, too. He never acted the same after that night. Not because of the carbon monoxide poisoning, no — I think he just stopped being the same person without his mom's guidance.

These days, I get that. I think I have, too.

³

It's the loss of a part of my childhood that I did not know was gone that night, but would never get back. It's the marker of when visiting my grandparents would, gradually enough to not notice but somehow also too fast to prevent, stop.

I would give anything to go back.

²

July 4th isn't a marker of independence, or pride in the county, or even feel-good time with your family.

It used to be, of course.

Now, it's that final cracke of fireworks going off, right before she got confused. It's the last real, coherent conversation I ever had with 1 of my grandmothers.

🧵⁹

It's Father's Day. I'll spend it mourning, grocery shopping, distracting with my partner, and clinging to the reliability of fictional men. I won't see you, or Mom, or L and B. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll spot a blue dot during my errands.

It's Father's Day. Please Don't Call.

🧵⁸

It's Father's Day, and our country looks to be falling apart. The protests are inspiring, but surreal. My neighbor is a N*zi. I wish I could tell you that I'm scared.

🧵⁷

It's Father's Day, and I want my mommy back. A hug from her couldn't fix the world, wouldn't make you kind, but if she did it tightly enough, I think it'd put me back together - at least for a little while.

🧵⁶

It's Father's Day, and I miss the girls horribly. I've recently started using variants of their initials as passwords like Mom did with us; i don't know how else to feel like we're all still together.

🧵⁵

When they're not technically yours, you can't control if they're lost to the system. All the same, I wish I could fall to my knees in front of that judge and beg for my daughters back.

🧵⁴

It feels like just yesterday I was getting that awful phone call, all over again. I think I mourn her, impossibly more, everytime I'm reminded of your cruelty.

It's Father's Day.

I'll probably never get to see the kids that I spent my late teens + earliest adult years raising.

🧵³

It's Father's Day.

I want so badly to take a page from my eldest brother's book and call our mama instead, like he always did. But Mom is gone. I can't wish her anything, or ask her why you're being so mean, or- anything, anymore.

🧵²

It's Father's Day.

I have nothing to celebrate. Instead I've ended up crying by myself in my kitchen. Crying over yesterday's protest footage, watching thousands protest the very things you've voted for, the fascist you've abandoned me for. I have never felt so simultaneously seen, and alone.