My First Love

He stood about 5'10'' tall. He was dark skinned with a slender frame. Despite his American residence, his Bahamian accent was as thick as fog and he was proud of it. He could cook like no other, Bahamian food that is. His peas and rice were always perfect and the way he seasoned fish caused your tastebuds to awaken. And his conch salad...every vegetable was cut in smedium sized pieces while the conch was cut slightly larger, always pleasing his customers. His charm and charisma caused you to fall in love instantly. But his music was the greatest thing about him. Not only did he have a record deal in his native land, but he also brought his act to the United States....Miami, Florida. He'd housed it in a nightclub in the heart of the city. That's where he met his 3rd love.....

I was an innocent bystander, watching the way he treated her....and the way she loved him. She was totally engaged, giving him her heart, mind, body and soul. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him but he was clearly limited on what he would do for her. I watched him as he stayed out late, not coming home until the next morning. And I watched her as she would sit up late at night, anticipating his arrival. There were times, of course, when he would make a surprise visit... to give her the only part of him he was willing to give.

Eventually she left and I took her place. I immediately positioned myself as her children's mother. While he stayed out all night in search of someone to replace me, I cooked for them, washed their clothes, combed their hair and made sure they attended school. The kids and I would go all day without seeing him and when he did come home, he was completely exhausted from being at the nightclub all night.

Year after year, I took his abuse. He never acknowledged me. He never verbally or tangibaly said thank you. And over time, the little relationship we had became non-existent. I began to realize that he was treating me the same way he had treated her. I was sad and resentful all at the same time. Here I was taking care of him and his children, giving him and them everything I had, and got nothing in return.

The older I got the more disengaged I got. But I couldn't leave the kids. I had to stay. I had to stay to make sure they were ok. He surely wasn't going to. Who would look after the girls who were so young and impressionable at the time? And who would look out for the boys who if not monitored closely, would fall prey to the drug infested environment he'd moved us to? But after several years, I left. I left him and his children behind. I left to save myself. I left to start a new life.

It would be several years before he and I would attempt another relationship. This time around, he was more humble. Life and it's experiences had caused his ego to all but disappear. And although his mind remained intact, his body was frail. He then started to look for me, wanting me to visit him more. He would always tell me how pretty I was and he seemed proud when I was around, happily introducing me to his friends. He would have meaningful conversations with me, often reminiscing on our past life together. And for the first time, he told me he loved me and THANK YOU.

MY DADDY.....