I avoid Father’s Day.
People ask me what I’m getting him. I laugh. I’ll figure something out.
Maybe I should. Maybe I’d be the bigger man.
But that word, father, slams in my ears, a fragile door.
Giving him anything’s pointless.
He’d just say it’s cheap, flimsy, another door slammed.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” “Tales From A Communion Line,” and “Community Time,” have been nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.
So sad. Sometimes relatives make the worst family, and we find our parents and siblings in people not in our bloodline.
Oh, so sad. I hope you find happiness, love, and open doors elsewhere.
That is really sad. I had a grandmother like that. Never seemed to appreciate anything and never did anything for anyone without expecting something in return. Unfortunately, people like that are impossible to please. :(