250 Words... or less

Scholiast says to:

Imagine your father coming to see you at school, riding a tricycle and wearing a Roman helmet. How would you explain this to your friends?

Well, my friends, let me tell you about it!

I have only vague memories of my father from my early childhood. My parents divorced when I was in kindergarten and my few memories of daddy are of riding in front of him on his motorcycle, of sitting on his lap in a room full of people, of sleeping in bed with him one night and peeing and him waking up to that warm wetness all over. The reason behind my few memories are because daddy simply wasn't around much. He worked hard and made quite a bit of money - although I don't remember this, my big brothers tell me of summers in our lakefront house, of dirtbikes and cool remote control cars, of the newest and best toys. But in spite of that, daddy spent a lot of money too. He liked to spend it down at the local bar with his buddies, and a few lady friends. I didn't know that then of course. I just knew that I didn't see him much before the divorce and then I didn't see him even more afterwards.

After the divorce, mom took us 3 kids and moved from California to Oregon. I do remember daddy coming to visit sometimes, but except for one memory of him when I was in 1st grade, my memories don't really start until I was about 9. But I do have one memory... shortly after we had moved. Mom was working 2 jobs and so my brothers were mostly in charge of me. I don't remember who got me on the bus to school, maybe I did it myself, but my brothers were always there for me after school. I was all of 7 years old and in first grade and I do remember really missing my daddy. We had no money, mom was always at work, and we felt really alone and scared a lot. I always dreamed my daddy would come and rescue me. I just thought it would be on his motorcycle, not on a tricycle!

I was in Mrs. Andersons class in first grade. I remember her because my kindergarden teacher back in California had been a Mrs. Anderson also. I was sitting in class working at my table with friends when there was a lot of noise and confusion and a mass stampede of first graders to the big window that looked out onto the playground. There was a funny looking man out there on a childs tricycle. The tricycle was red with yellow and red streamers just like one I had at home from when I was a kindergarden baby. The man was funny and we were all laughing - his big knees all poking up and his elbows all sticking out - and his feet in big boots so much bigger than the little pedals. He went in wobbly lines all over the playground. We couldn't see his face because his head was down watching where he was going but he had on a funny white helmet that Mrs. Anderson kept calling a "Roman" helmet. I thought maybe he was one of the special kids from the classroom on the corner of the schools property but there were no teachers with him and he wasn't yelling or anything. Finally the big funny man fell off the trike and we all gasped. He stood up and then we could hear that he was yelling. He walked towards the school still yelling. He was walking funny too, weaving around a little and stumbling sometimes. I can still see the upturned trike with the front wheel still turning off in the distance as the big funny man stumbled toward the school doors.

As Mrs. Anderson told us to go sit back down and mind our own business, we could finally make out the words the man was yelling. "D!" "D!" "Wheresh my lil'll D?" "Who took my baby?" He started saying bad words too, and more things, but it was upon hearing his voice and the sound of my name at the same time that made me suddenly realize it was my daddy out there. My daddy. Drunk. On a tricycle in front of all my new friends in my new school. I was scared. I didn't know if I was supposed to be happy to see him, and I was, or embarrassed, which I was, or scared that he was going to take me away.

I don't really remember what happened after that. I just remember how funny it was at first, and then the confused feelings afterwards. The End.

* I want to reassure you this is entirely fictional (well, mostly!) ... but it was highly likely that it could have happened, or maybe a variation of it at least.