It’s storming. I’m scared of the thunder, but Daddy, in his big grey sweater, holds me and shouts, “I’m The Thunder King! Have No Fear!” He tickles me until I forget to be scared.
I know this memory is the oldest because my mom and dad are living together. After that, I can tell how old the memories are by which procedures I have to go through to see him.
5 hour drive, Mackinaw bridge, birth certificate, 3 hours of tiny grey waiting room, 3 electric doors opened by a guard in a bullet-proof glass box, half hour limit, no touching except the hug at the beginning and end - that’s Hiawatha. We went in my Grama’s no-a/c full-size van and she drank out of her big 64oz gas station thermos.
2 hour drive, fancy blacklight hand stamp, big white waiting room, all our stuff in the little locker, 2 electric doors, and one time we almost can’t visit because I can’t get my ring off my hand - that’s Ionia. Grama carries a giant bag - $45 in quarters for lunch from the vending machines.
Later, he got moved to a lower-security place where I could sit on his lap and he read me books off the little cart. That one had a long name, and good vending machines. I got a Payday, Grama got a Butterfingers, and Grampa got a Snickers. I still get weird nostalgia when I use a vending machine.
I see him once during his parole, kind of in secret. I don’t know it is wrong, and my mom doesn’t know he was there at all until it’s too late. It is my Great-Grama’s birthday party - must be her 80th. It has been almost 2 years since I’ve been to Michigan. Grama looks at me, holds me around my waist and cries and cries. Daddy introduces Hannah to me, and says they’re getting married.
