There it is again, that same damn green sign. “Exit 59" on the New York State Thruway. “Dunkirk/Fredonia". When I was a kid, seeing that sign meant I was almost home. Close to my warm bed. Close to my room full of Blondie records and Berenstain Bears book. Near all of my favorite stuffed animals. And my toy piano. Now when I see that sign it means I’m 1,200 miles away from Florida. That’s where I live now.
My life in Tampa is wonderful. I have great friends. I write my songs and I sing them for people who care to hear. We shouldn’t talk about my love life though. Neither then or now. Those late nights of texting straight guys who haven’t written back in months. Or years. I may have shaken my Western New York accent, but I’ve never shaken that fucked up desire to lure men into my life for the purpose of them taking advantage of me. It beats being alone. I really suck at being alone.
This time I am returning to New York to attend the wedding of Big Donny. Big Donny was my step-father growing up. When Big D and my mom were married, I never let myself be his son. But once my mom divorced him it was then I decided to promote him to the role of “father”. My real dad doesn’t give a fuck about me but Big Donny always did. Now that Big Don finally found a new woman to marry I had no option but to attend. I am his son.
