The farthest back I can remember of my father is around the age of 5. My mother, brother, and I were coming back home from something. My brother was the first back into the apartment and stopped dead in his tracks. I followed and saw a strange man sitting on the other side of the living room. One of his legs was in a cast.

You’d think when my brother shouted “Dad!” it would’ve filled me in on who he was.

Nope.

My five year old brain couldn’t remember seeing this man before. All I remembered was my brother and mother. No one else in my life. I stayed where I was and asked “Who are you?”

“It’s dad.” My brother answered while giving my dad a bear hug.

“Really?” I still didn’t seem sure of this man.

My dad grinned. “Really.”

After that I followed my brother’s lead and bolted over to him.

Mom finally came in. “What are you doing here?”

The thing that we were told back then is that my father was a truck driver who had fallen on some black ice. He messed up his ankle in a few places and was sent back home. Being gullible 5 and 6 year old we believed it. When my brother got older he looked into dads past a little more. I didn’t. I actually forgot all about the story.

Can’t remember the actual story but he was in jail at that time and broke his ankle. I remember him telling me a few years ago that he was going to sue them because of how he broke his ankle but couldn’t because he refused to be looked at by their doctors. Something like that.

Growing up with him, he was always getting in trouble so I can believe he did jail time. He’s got a whole… past that I’m curious about but don’t think I want to bother looking into.

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