Photo – By Kellie Elmore
I grew up a broken man and when my wife left and my children wished nothing of me, I became a bitter man.
I could blame it on my father, that drunken son of a bitch, but I was an adult who made the same mistakes.
Let me go to where it all began. I took to the bottle when I was 16. Stole it from my passed-out father who drowned his sorry ass in a bottle of rum. It wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until after my mother died of leukemia, a poor excuse for a man. But, it was what it was. I learned from him. Use the bottle to get you through to tomorrow.
When I met my wife, she had no idea how bad it was. It wasn’t what I had planned. I thought if I had a wife it would all come together. Before long, I was drinking in front of my family. She left me three years later of threats. I was angry. Quit my job. Cursed every woman I saw. It wasn’t until I was broke and desperate before I sobered. A hard hit of reality.
I don’t have my family anymore but that bitter man left with the bottle. I sit alone and take in the world in a different perspective. I wish it had been there when I had a chance to give my family a father they deserved.
S. L. S. Oborowsky
Prompt by Kellie Elmore for Free Writing Friday. Revised. Original post – My Name is John.