The man my mom and I loved abandoned us when I was 13. Ten years later, I pulled over for a hitchhiker and saw my dad, with a little girl by his side. The scars from his departure never faded—would this encounter heal them, or make everything worse?
The day he left, it felt like the world lost all its color. I remember standing in the driveway, watching his car disappear around the corner. The sound of his tires fading into the distance was a sound I’ll never forget—it was the sound of hope being slowly crushed.
“Dad!” I screamed, running after him. “Dad, come back!”
But he didn’t. He drove away without a word, leaving no explanation, no goodbye—just gone.
I turned to look at my mom, Crystal, who stood in the doorway, her face full of shock and disbelief. I was scared, unsure what to do. “Mom?” I whispered, feeling small.
She snapped out of her daze and reached out to me. “Oh, Ellie, come here, baby,” she said, pulling me into her arms. I buried my face into her shirt, which smelled like home. Even as she held me, though, I could feel her shaking.
“Why did he leave us?” I asked through muffled tears.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, brushing her hand through my hair, trying to soothe me while struggling herself. But I made a silent promise to be strong for her. We had to stick together.
The next decade was a blur of struggle and slow healing. Mom and I became a team, but his absence left a hole that couldn’t be filled. We survived, though, and we grew stronger. Then, everything changed one evening.
I was driving home from work, lost in thought when I noticed a man and a little girl standing by the road, hitchhiking. Something about the man’s posture made my heart race. I slowed down, squinting through the windshield.
No. It couldn’t be.
I pulled over and watched as they approached. The little girl skipped alongside the man, chattering happily. But the man… it was him. My dad. He looked older, worn down by life, but it was unmistakably him.
I got out of the car, my hands trembling. “Need a ride?” I called out, my voice shaking.
He turned and his face froze in recognition. “Ellie?” he whispered, stunned.
The car ride was tense, the silence heavy. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Is she my sister?” I asked.
“No,” he said, sighing. “She’s not your sister. She’s the daughter of someone I’ve been with for a few years. Her mom left us.”
I laughed bitterly. “So you know what it’s like to be left behind now?”
“I’m sorry, Ellie. I made mistakes, but I’m trying to make up for them.”
When we arrived, I told him, “Take care of her. Don’t mess this up.”
As I drove away, I realized I didn’t need his love to be whole. I had my mom, and she was enough. I didn’t need to look back anymore.