the freeway slowdance

Santa never visited our house when I was a kid. For some reason or another (maybe Santa didn't visit Chinese houses) he would just skip our house on by. It wasn't something that as a kid you ever really understood, or had explained to you. Don't get me wrong, I still believed in Santa. How can you not believe in such a wonderful concept, right? Big jolly fella going around giving away gifts for the hell of it. But my understanding was, you had to be good through an entire year to get the gifts at the end, and I knew for certain that I definitely wasn't.

No, there was a Santa. I just wasn't worthy of getting gifts from the guy. Wait. Don't feel sorry. I always understood there were more worthy kids of gifts than myself, and hell, needier kids too. I was provided for. Because despite not receiving gifts from St. Nick, I did get gifts from my parents. I knew for a fact that despite anything, family would always be there for each other, no matter what. And I held this belief solidly and dependably until I was 18, in my first year of college, and my dad slept with his business partner and left my mom shortly after my grandfather died, and my sister had to spend an entire year trying to console a sobbing wreck of a mother.

He sent me an e-mail a few days ago, a response to an e-mail I sent him a few months ago telling him, in more or less words, that he was an inconsiderate bastard when he accused my sister and myself of not loving him. In his e-mail he again goes on the attack.

Well, fuck that. There'll be no 4 a.m. regret songs here, no Cats in the Cradle on my part. He gave up his right to a forgiving and understanding family when he failed to offer the same.