When the World Was Beautiful

When I was little, I would sit outside with my dad on warm summer nights and look at the stars. He would leave me in awe with his extensive knowledge of everything. He never talked to me like the child I was. He always talked to me as his equal and pushed me to understand things my small brain probably shouldn’t have been able to comprehend. I was an only child back then. I had no one to fight with in order to get attention. I could feel as though I was one of my dad’s best friends. My parents didn’t fight back then. We were all happy. We were all together. I miss those days. I miss not having to constantly worry about them. I miss not having to be afraid every time my sister leaves the house of being left alone with them. Things were simple back then. I could look out at the vast universe around me and not have to think about anything but my dad and the stars. Now, there are constant thoughts pushing themselves to the front of my mind. I can’t even manage to give my full attention to the most beautiful of moments.

I remember the last time my dad and I ever looked at the stars together. He was especially quiet that night. We never talked much, but that night, I don’t remember him saying anything at all. He wouldn’t even look at me when I tried to start a conversation. He just kept staring at the same spot in the sky as if thinking if he didn’t move, he would be able to disappear. I looked back to the house to see my mom watching us through the window, a mug in her hand. She always drank hot tea no matter the time of year. She said that where she came from in Africa, they would always say warm drinks cooled the body when it was hot. I was never sure if I believed that, but I find myself drinking my hot tea brought to me from Africa by relatives that still visit now. I still don’t know if it helps, but it brings back good memories of when the world was a simple place.

When we went inside that night, my parents sat me down on the couch and told me I was going to have a little sister in a few months. They thought I would be excited. I had always asked for a sister. I immediately burst into tears and ran off to play by myself. They didn’t understand. They still don’t. I never explained it to them. I knew that when my mom was pregnant with me, my dad had threatened to leave her. He didn’t want kids. He didn’t want me. But he fell in love with me the minute I was born. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stayed for me. I was worried that with another kid, he wouldn’t stay. I was scared it would be too much for him. I needed my dad. I loved him. They still think I was upset because I didn’t want to share them. I loved being an only child, but I knew I wouldn’t mind sharing my parents. I just needed to keep both my parents. I just needed to grow up with both of them and not have to worry about if they would still be there when I woke up the next morning or if I would wake up to a house empty of their belongings and their love.

Nothing was ever the same after that night. My dad became more distant. He never really bonded with my sister. I am still close with him, but we don’t talk to each other or even see each other much. He never brought me outside to look at the stars again. They seem to have lost their shine. I see the world differently now than I did then. You see, my dad may not have left physically, but he did leave mentally. It’s like he’s only there when I do things wrong. He’s never proud of me genuinely and he doesn’t support a lot of the decisions I’ve made. My mom’s a wreak most of the time. He fights with her more than ever. I can’t focus on the stars anymore. I sit outside alone sometimes trying to remember what it felt like to have no worries. It’s not the same. Sitting alone in an ugly world watching the stars is nothing when there was a time you watched them in a beautiful world with someone you loved.