Paternity Test 1, 2, 3

“Hi. Are you Michael? Could you have a daughter born in 1982 somewhere out there in the world? Yes? Oh, well then, I’m her. That’s me.”

I spoke to my biological father today for the first time in my life. He knew I existed but didn’t know my name; I’ve known his for ten years but have never called.

But then there I was, and so was he.

I told him I didn’t need anything and was simply curious about him. Throughout our conversation, his voice fell off almost entirely towards the end of sentences. I couldn’t tell if he was getting choked up or if he had speech difficulty.

He asked me if I was tall. I told him I was 5’8″, and he said, “Oh. I’m 6’7”.

Back and forth, it went like that, unlike any conversation I’ve ever had.

I learned I have an older half-brother and a younger half-sister.

I don’t know what to do with any of the information I learned today; it’s a lot to process.

On days like today, when something leaves me feeling discombobulated and out of sorts, I like to take it easy and listen to myself. And right now I want nothing more than to zone out to unimportant, mind-numbing TV.

Like, The Bachelor.

What a great show, right? Perfect for eating the final remains of a massive jar of cheese balls Dave won at our annual bingo game on Christmas Eve.

Is there anything else I need? How about the comfiest pajamas you got, an extra-long warm watered face washing, and cuddles with Dave. That’ll do.

Ok, my self-care is calling. You enjoy your night. I’ll do the same.

Love always,

2 thoughts on “Paternity Test 1, 2, 3

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