Gulf Sunset

I wonder sometimes what I will remember this year, what will remain,what will become blurry. I think of the rocky month getting to know my dad and his fiancee,which may be the hardest situation I have ever been in-which is saying quite a lot actually. I still look at my father and see the man he was,underneath the new life. I see the man who didn't know how to talk to children,so he brought me up to his level as a girl.I talked politics, and law before art,actually.I was pretty happy to.I remember refusing to sit at the kiddie table at a friends, much to the other mother's dismay.I remember Mrs.Bontecou telling me it was adult time. I had no idea what "adult time" meant. I won, I think and ended up sitting with my parent's at dinner. I still think I was a terrible child, and never learned many of the games my friends played. I loved my mom-and the more I meet other people in this world, the more I realize how great a person she was. But as a kid-my father was infinitely more interesting. He'd buckle me in-and off we'd go.Alone. I loved that time.My friends loved him,too. I remember a game of "Let's get lost" in his car filled with little girls, all going on a wild adventure, we knew not where. (This game was a favorite.We'd get in my dad's car and say "left" or "right" randomly. We usually ended up about 40 miles away from our house. We would sing Willie Nelson or Air Supply, with some Julio Iglesias. It was great. ) My father also has a faith in me that sometimes feels unearned. It is daunting and touching. He's a kind man -he picks up strays.He is getting a scooter for the beach and a dog. He's excited.
     We went for Mexican once. We looked at the Gulf.He tells me his life is different now. There's silence.He says he misses her. I nod.