if were going to be honest:

i dont believe in jesus, i miss my mother and need a cigarette.

Today my father and I spent time together, just the two of us, for the first time in 2 years. Which may or may not sound incredible to you, but seemed so odd to me. He came and picked up at 5 on the dot. I felt like a six year old, pacing by the door making sure mom was out of view, nervous energy dancing through my body like Ginger and Fred and wondering why. It all came flooding back to me, not that Im even sure what that is. But that feeling, whatever it is, was oh so incredibly familiar, that brought me back to a sad place and time.

And he even walked up to the door.

And then we had one of those conversations, that even while its happening, you realize youre an adult. It was honest and difficult and real. There was no room for jokes or lack of eye contact, there was not enough space in the room. But it made me feel old, alone and out of breath. And as bad as I wanted to run outside to feel the cold air on my face, I sat there and said exactly how it felt. How all of those broken promises and lies and things that have been pushed down deep have caused me issues that haven't even come full circle.
Then he told me the truth: If I want to work on our present relationship, I have to make peace with my past. That I have to learn to accept and forgive a childhood that wasn't and parents who weren't, even if its not fair or if it was right. He told me that he expected me to bring him all of his happiness, and I was six.

So after all of that heaviness, I smoked four cigs. Reds to be exact.