Every now and then I remember my birth dad who is somewhere out there and who I’ve never seen.
I first heard about him when I was around twenty-three years old. At the time, I was both shaken as well as happy to find out about being half Southern Italian. (I guess that’s where all the fire comes from. Forza!)
Today, for some reason, he is on my mind. And, as so many times before, his turban-like Seventies hairdo makes me smile. He was only nineteen when this photo was taken…
Does he ever wonder what happened to me after he ran off? Who has he become? Is he a good man? Does he have a big family? Is he enjoying the same, blazing, southern sun right now, not far away from me, in Apulia?
Maybe we’re even having our evening beer at the same time, toasting each other across the deep blue Mediterranean Sea without being aware of doing so…