Without wings, without wheels

 You can't just go off on a journey

 with a complete STRANGER! 

What were you thinking? 

Surely, your mother warned you of such things!

 Yes, we should probably become better acquainted.
Let's see... 
Well, I'm an artist. Self taught, but that counts. (I've had to convince myself of that for a while now!) Anyway, I have loved all things pertaining to art since I was literally about two years old. My mom said I had a compulsion to finger paint every day. And, if paints weren't readily available, I was known to find some sort of writing implement & just decorate the walls!

My father, also an artist, was still in the home until I was nearly two. I must have gotten the inspiration to sow my own artistic oats, from watching him paint and sketch constantly. 

And of course, there's always that possibility of genetic predisposition too, I suppose. 

Throughout the next several years, I had no contact with my father. However, my love of art flourished. It was consistently my favorite subject - I may be left-handed, but I was definitely right brain dominant! 

To my step-father's dismay, I am apt to believe.
 He was proficient in math and science, very pragmatic, somewhat dry and extremely logical.
 I wanted so much to impress him, but always thought he regarded my interests and creations as pure fluff. He would implore me to study more.

 And, that... did not impress me much!  

Don't get me wrong. I loved my Dad very much. He was sometimes an exacting or "tough" parent, but that's just it - He WAS a parent. He was very much "on the scene" - very dedicated to home and family. He counted me as family, and that, was something I could always count on. 

I had a good life. 

A few more years passed, and my parents got divorced. This was naturally, a very painful experience. And I became very confused, as I learned at this time,
that there was actually another man out there. 

A man who was supposedly my "real" father. 
He lived in New Orleans. 
He had left shortly after my mother remarried and had been there ever since. 

Around that time, (I was nearly 12) I began having a very difficult time. My (step) Dad inexplicably and abruptly broke off all ties...... with me. 

However, he continued coming every other weekend to collect my two younger brothers for weekend visitation.

 Avoiding any eye contact with me.

 This was extraordinarily confusing and exceedingly painful.

 The reasoning given to me by well meaning adults was that my brothers were his "real" kids. 
So, I became more and more obsessed with finding my "real" father.


 I only had a few snapshots of him. I would try to imagine what he was like.
 I knew his name was Jack.
That he was married once before my mom AND had a daughter before me!  A sister?!?

I knew very little else. My mom told me little snippets, at my compulsive inquiries. She relayed bits and pieces about their whirlwind courtship, their brief marriage and ultimately, their untimely breakup. I was so intrigued by the impulsive nature of it all! It all seemed terribly romantic to me.  It all seemed terribly annoying to her that I felt this way. 
This makes me grin.  I get it, now.
So, who was this man??

The ache to belong to someone again, grew unbearable until my mom did a very noble and selfless thing. She decided to launch a quest to find him for me. Now, as a mother myself - I know that must have made her queasy at best. They had had no contact for nearly eleven years. Before I knew it, I was introduced - over the phone, long distance - to this man of mystery.

To be continued........ ;)