I Tie My Shoes Everyday

If you think about life, in simplest terms Life is a string of events tied together, along the way there are some twists and turns, maybe even some knots. When you lace your shoes, there's a bit of a zig zag pattern. Life can zig, it can zag. Your laces become dirty, tired and even knotted. We tie our shoes every day. We live every day, we breathe. We have zig zags,knots and we can be worn out. I learned how to tie my shoes when I was about three years old. My father had left the apartment. He had started hitting us kids and that was it. She would not tolerate it. We had a man named R move in to help pay the bills. He had gone to high school with both my parents. My room was now R's room and I shared with my baby sister. My great grandparents were mortified. They drove four hours to read my mom the riot act. But like most people in their early 20's she knew it all and had all the answers. R was staying. My great grandparents tried to reason with my mother. Did she know how this looks to others? How it affected the family image? They had no idea what my father had done. The torment we had suffered. They just knew she was now a single mom with two kids and a divorce hanging over her head. (It would take my father about seven years to sign those papers) R became an instant fixture in our home. He kept us safe from my neurotic father. At the time my father's hobbies included prank calling the house at all hours. Entering the apartment when no one was home, moving things around. Stealing things from us like the can opener. R fell in love with us as a family. We loved him back. He protected us, he provided us with some semblance of a normal life. We had a temporary reprieve from the tangled mess that had become our lives. R spent a lot of time with my sister and I. He brought us gifts. My favorite in particular was this giant white board. We would color for hours and hours. At some point, he began teaching me how to tie my shoes. I don't remember how long it took for me to do it. But I remember sitting by the door and every day he would show me. He was patient. Aside from spoiling us and teaching us things he also told me a fib that has stuck with me to this day. He once told me that if I slept with socks on, my toes would fall off. I believed that little fib for a very long time. And here I am, almost 26,and I won't sleep with socks on my feet. By the time I was ready for my first day of kindergarten, R was gone. We lived in a new apartment, different end of town. Sure, we still had troubles with my father but our time with R had come to an end. But the time we had was memorable and happy. That is what I remember. I refuse to let my father's actions tarnish those memories.(I guess we bought new shoes?) I recently tried to contact him. It was to no avail but if I could speak with him, I would thank him. Something I never did because I was too young to understand or appreciate. I wish my emails and whatnot had not gone unanswered but at some point we all have to move on. For me, moving on is a work in progress as I deal with the physical healing.At this exact moment, you could say I have a knot in my lace, one that is going to take some time to unravel. If by some miracle he finds this blog and this exact post, I want him to know how grateful I am to have had him in my life, even if just for a short time. He isn't forgotten, I mean how could I forget? I tie my shoes everyday.