3 - My Father, the Stranger

When I started school, I remember being told about my father. He was not a nice man. He was to be feared. I must never go with a stranger who said he was my father. I must always walk straight home from school and never talk to strangers. A stranger, a father, both seemed dangerous enough that I didn't need to be told twice.

When my mother remarried, and we moved away from my grandparent's home, strangers and fathers were not a worry anymore. I had a new Dad.

I was reluctant to accept him. Things did not settle with me right. There were things that he did that I did not like. I wanted to meet my father. He must have been much better than this new Dad.

My mother did not know how to tell me about my father. Instead we went to see my grandmother.