When I was six my father left our family. I was the middle kid. My brother was ten, sister was three.

I had no idea where my father went. From time to time he would come around and crash on our couch.  He would come home real late, get up at the crack of dawn and vanish.

One day while sitting at the kitchen table eating a bologna sandwich with mustard,  I asked my mother, “where’s daddy?”

“He found a new family,” she answered.

Found a new family? I asked myself.

Little did I realize right around that time I would discover something that would take his place.

Me in the Yard