It’s Christmas time again,
Not sure how old I was--maybe 9 or 10.
We walk in the house,
and Daddy’s passed out on the couch,
Which wasn’t anything new because that’s how he was most of the time,
As I vividly remember him in my mind.
Mommy yelled, “Nat, get up and get the tree out of the garage! Christmas is tomorrow!”
Daddy continued to sleep, as he always did, which was the reason for most of my sorrow.
She finally was able to wake him up from his drunken state and tell him again to get the Christmas tree.
He yelled back at her, as he always did, and said, "I’ll get it in a minute! I'm sleeping! Can’t you see!"
She yelled. He yelled ... and finally he gave in.
He went to the garage to get the tree once again.
As Daddy walked by, I started to cry.
Mommy asked, “What’s the matter?”
I said, “Daddy’s drunk,” as tears fell from my eyes.
That was a moment I will NEVER forget.
It was little, well, big moments like that, that caused my Father to live in regret.
From My Book,
”The Love You Gave:
The Attention I Craved”
Nahdiyah Dennison
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08682L9R2/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_awdb_t1_xsmYEbJXRQNQG
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