I waited outside his school to watch his smile, to get his hug for one last time, to make him remember that I existed.
He came out, slung his bag, my son. The mirror reflection of me. He turned to smile at her- and he saw me. But he never cared because I, was just another stranger- in his world. I was just someone who didn't matter. His laughter echoed in the park as she handed him a cellphone- a new one, shiny. Something that reflected me in the distance- a disappointed me.
And again, for the 10th time in my life , I went back clutching the small packet of miniature car that I made for him. I walked slowly because I was tired- of life, of disappointments, of worries. Because the one thing I lived for, didn't want me.
"Hey Ray! Gave Sean the car you made for him?" Mr.Carson shouted from the neighborhood. I shook my head.
My throat burnt with the tears that I held back and I hobbled, , to the same place that I returned to every 2nd of july. I opened the cardboard and out fell dozens of cars- tiny miniature cars. At the end of which lay a card that said, "Happy Birthday,To my son, with love; Dad."
This is a true incident that happened in the life of someone that I met during online chatting. Hey Sean, I hope you realize that your father is as much important to your life as your mother.