Journey: The Act of Taveling from place to place Phase 4

Journey: The Act of Taveling from place to place  Phase 4

Status: Finished

Genre: Non-Fiction

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Non-Fiction

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Summary

This man, this new and powerful was now my father....

Tags

Summary

This man, this new and powerful was now my father....

Chapter1 (v.1) - Journey: The Act of Taveling from place to place Phase 4

Author Chapter Note

This man, this new and powerful was now my father....

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 03, 2011

Reads: 424

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 03, 2011

A A A

A A A

My Hero...

My new father was great his name was Tim Joe Miller. He was a military who had spent 15 years in the United States Marine Corp. He was man of short stature, when he walked into the room he did so as if he owned it. Always in freshly starched gear I was proud to see how all eyes were upon him once he entered the room. With his high and tight always cut to precision. This man, this new and powerful man was now my “father” and I was proud to be apart of his family. He treated me indeed as if I was one of his own children teaching me to ride a bike, to roller skate and we enjoyed many other childhood activities that a father and his daughter should, I finally had a dad.

The next few weeks were spent preparing for school I was excited, and could not wait until the first day of school came around. I had never been to school before, I had no idea what school was but I sure was excited. Every night I would open the closet and stare at my new clothes planning what I would wear every day for the first week of school changing the outfits up each time. I had never had so many clothes to chose from, the three pairs of jeans and the four shirts that I had come with had long since been thrown away and forgotten as if they never existed.

School was great there were hundreds of kids (or so it seemed) being herded like cattle to different rooms according to last name. “Odyssey Miller!” I heard the large black lady standing at the front of the lunchroom say. I was too afraid to move, no one had ever called me Odyssey before, I was unsure how to respond. The large, black lady is no longer standing in the front of the room; she is making her way towards the back of the room. “Are you Odyssey sweetheart?”

All I could do was nod unaware that my last name had been changed to Miller. Once I was placed in the right classroom; I was introduced, assigned a seat, and given a textbook. That was one of the proudest moments of my life, my own book (unaware at the time that the book was not to leave the room let alone the school). Once I got the hang of things I excelled, talked a bit too much but still I excelled. Everyday was a good day I had Ma’am, “Father,” Anya and Elijah now I had school. After being with my new family for about a year my father was sent off to war. It was one of the saddest moments of my life.

That winter things around the house went as usual without my father. I had never seen a woman run a household so to speak; I missed my father and was counting down the days until his return. Wondering all the while why no one else in the house missed him as much as me. He had become my hero, I wanted to be in his presence wanting him to go riding and skating with me.

Finally the day had come for my “father” to return. I imagined that when we picked him up that there would be crowds of people screaming and shouting his name. Chanting about how big of a hero he was. This man, the Hero was my “father.” When we arrived at the bus station, the same bus station that my birth mother had left me at I had an eerie feeling not the same joyous feeling that had filled my stomach and heart like a fluttering butterfly breaking from its cocoon. None of the excitement that had filled me up only hours, no minutes ago was left lingering by the time we existed the car.

There were no crowds, no one chanting for my “father” the hero, my hero. My Hero stepped off the bus with a bit of sadness in his eyes, he too it seemed had wanted the chanting crowd and loud claps of applause for his heroic servitude. There was none. Our trip home was quiet, all of us wondering what the next was thinking. That night we all went to bed quiet, this went on for several days. Everyone in the house was staying out of his way afraid that he would snap, like so many other war vets that had returned home from the same war only weeks earlier. That winter was the last winter that my “father” was my hero.


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