Personal Narrative: Biological Dad

At my Step Dad's, Chad, we sometimes go deer spotting at night or day. It's really fun, but there was this one time that will I remember, and will never forget.

I was nine years old at the time. It was December 15, 2011, just over five years ago. I remember riding the bus after school to my mom’s house, I was bringing back frosting and candy because we had built gingerbread houses that day at school. Two or three days before my oldest sister Aly graduated college. A couple hours after I got home from school my step dad at the time went to take me to my dad’s house, we rode in this big loud truck. Not knowing at the time we got there early.

On February 28, 2002 I was born in a small hospital in Northern Ohio. About a year later my biological father left my me and my mother, so for most of my childhood I grew up with a single-parent. I lived in Ohio for about four years, and then I moved to Maryland where I met my (now) Step-dad at my mother’s work. I was very shy when I first saw him, and I don’t think I would have ever guessed that he would marry mom four years later. Skip to mid-2010 when I had lived in New York for a year and I was starting the third grade. I was at the bus stop when I saw a girl about my age who was waiting for the bus as well. For the rest of my two years in New York we had become best friends and we still are in contact of each other (she now lives in Chile).

"Victoria! Don't forget to pack, it's your dads weekend." My mom shouted across the hallway in our house. My parents have been divorced since before I was born so every time my father was in town I'd visit him. When I was younger, I would always ask my dad if I could spend the night at my cousins house since they were from his side of his family and that was the only time I could see them. Afterwards it became a routine going over to their house, little by little I hated going there but I was left in silence. One night, my cousin Emily went out with her friends and I was left to sleep alone in her room. As I was slowly falling asleep, I heard the door creek open and quietly shut closed... I quickly awaken, my heart beats as if it is about to pop out of my chest, I weep as movements get closer and he says "shhh.." There he was, beside me gliding his fingers down my belly to places his hands shouldn't be.

My step dad has always been weird about how me and my mom get along. Everytime we bond he gets so mad and it is not healthy. He is always trying to put us against each other, trying to make my mom seem like the bad person when I get in trouble or making me look bad infront of my mom. Saying things like my mom being the one who influences him on getting me in trouble or that I am being rude to him and he lies his way into trying to convince us. He invents his own lies and lives in them himself. One day my parents got into an intense argument that led my step dad to kick my mom and I out of the house. At that moment I did not have time to be a child, instead I stood by her and helped her refocus. That morning I had a tie dye shirt drying in the

My dad was an alcoholic all my memories consisted of me coming home from my babysitters or school, he would be drunk passed out on the couch with beer bottles everywhere, and nascar on the television.

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like

It was the spring of 2013. My mom took me out of school early that day because we needed to get driving to Dike, Iowa. Since my sister is also a volleyball player, she has state that same weekend, but not in the same place. However, the sophomores were at the same place we were. Anyhow, my sister drove with my mom to the hotel her team was staying at, and I drove with my dad. I’m a lot like my dad so I get ready pretty quickly and I only pack what’s needed. When I got home, it took me about five minutes to get ready since I packed my bag the day before. On the other hand, my mom had to take at least half an hour to “fix” her makeup and her hair, and my sister took about forty-five minutes just to pack her bag! Anyways, my dad and I made it

I sat in silence as my dad talked to my mom. I sat and listened to everything he said, all of the problems they had been having and the signs that things were not going right. My mom tried to comfort my dad, even though their marriage did not last, their friendship did. I could feel the pain my dad was feeling, it felt like a thousand nails stabbing my

Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I guess it is interesting, the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. You begin with our Daddies. Your daddy was a pastor of the New Hope Baptist Church; my daddy was a pastor of a church at Excelsior Springs. Um. You're the youngest of the three James boys; I'm the youngest of the five Ford boys. Between Charley and me, is another brother, Wilbur here, with six letters in his name; between Frank and you was a brother, Robert, also with six letters. Robert is my Christian name. You have blue eyes; I have blue eyes. You're five feet eight inches tall. I'm five feet eight inches tall. Oh me, I must've had a list as long as your nightshirt when I was twelve, but I've lost some curiosities over the years.

I grew up being the first ever kid to “not have a dad.” My classmates questioned me in ignorance, wondering how I was ever created without a father of my own. This is because I was taught by those around me, at the young age of six, to always reply “I don’t have one,” when asked, “Where’s your dad?”

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

When I was fourteen I started making excuses to stay with my grandma as much as I could, whether it would be joining clubs, working football games, or just that I wanted to see her. I hated living with my mom and step father. He would go into a drunken rage and I was always his target for bullying so my grandma would gladly take me in. She would hold me when I wanted to break down and cry from the way he would treat me and promised that she would help me in anyway possible. Times that my step father would say something demeaning and hurtful towards me she would be right there to pick up the pieces and put him into his place. She took me in shortly after.

It was a cold December night Dad had locked me out of the house it was better than the

Tim is my second dad’s name. My mom brought him home for my brother and me to meet when I was in first grade. I think I was six. I didn’t like Tim at first because he was shorter than my mother, and I doubted he would stay. My mom and I left the first dad when she was eight months pregnant with my brother. Although I was only three years old, I remember the night. I was eating those silly orange peanut-shaped circus candies. To this day, I cannot tolerate the taste of them. My mom told him she was leaving. She was tired of him being gone on the road with his big rig and of the other woman calling late in the night claiming that he was the father of her daughter. She didn’t yell and she didn’t