Those of you that know enough about me to know my convoluted history know I have recently reconnected my 24 year old daughter that I had lost for many years. Because of a situation that was blamed on me, but I had nothing to do with, she stopped communicating with me for almost five years. It was during that time that I transitioned… something she knew nothing about prior to us losing touch.
In the last ten months, however, we have not only reconnected but have become good friends that talk on a more adult level, and we talk now every day.
My daughter was always near and dear to me. She was cut from my mold, and do I hope God not only broke said mold since, but then sent it back to the mill to be ground again. It is that bond and sameness we always had that allows us now to converse as friends more than parent and child. I love the way she and I have come close together again, if not geographically, at least in spirit.
My daughter recently created yet another new website in which she blogs and displays her creative talents in words and pictures. Please indulge me while I reprint her first blog. It is well-written and is… well…. my daughter in prose. As a note, though she knows of and accepts my transition, she hasn’t seen me since and still refers to me as “daddy”. The ‘father’ she speaks of is me, and I am ok with that. And yes, the picture above is of her; and yes, she has my nose.
“Me, in a tree”
Here I go.
Onward onto what feels like absolutely nothing at the moment. But it isn’t. Nothing can only come from nothing, and the slight effort I’m putting into these words right now will surely yield something for me in the future; if only the fact that these are the first and more are sure to follow. Anyway, it’s much better than being up at one in the morning, 30 Rock on in the background, looking at 12 interesting shower heads on StumbleUpon.
It’s moments like this, where I’m trying my hardest to accomplish jack, that I tend to forget that my life is crazy.
My father says that I live in a tree.
I take this to mean that I live a life that is far from ordinary. I don’t really see it, but he’s my father and has pushed bounds on things that range from car engines to sexuality, so I’ll take his word for it. He says this often, usually after I tell him that I got to ride the train for free with a wink from the conductor, or that a man approached me in a bar to ask if my nose was crooked (to which I responded yes).
I am a single woman in my 20′s, learning everyday that the hype surrounding single women is ridiculous and caring far too little to do anything about it. I use my friends bathroom and I see a Cosmo that threatens to help me find the man of my dreams in 30 days or I mention a masculine name to my mother and she asks if I have a romantic connection with him or worse still, my brother says I’m too picky.
But the single woman thing actually doesn’t bother me; I’m just surviving like anyone else my age and alone would. Trying to work towards a career, paying off massive student loans (kinda), and being way too pensive. Spending week nights drinking cheap beer trying to make memories like they’re going out of style.
So I run around my town like I own it, I sneak in smoking cigarettes out on my roof, I sleep on the beach whenever possible, I experiment with my hair after a break up and I’m slowly covering myself with tattoos. I like my tree.
In fact, I like it a lot.
I love my daughter.