Kayla Owens
Michael Hedges
English 101
23 September 2014Narrative Essay
It was nearing the end of what seemed like just another day. I had been awake since 5:30 that morning, and it had been a long day. I was more than ready to get some comfortable clothes on, curl up in bed, and relax. My tempur-pedic mattress, freshly washed t-shirt sheets, and an episode of NCIS were calling my name. That would have to wait, though, because my Ethics class had an ongoing discussion that I was required to be a part of. I grabbed my laptop and headed for the couch, cursing myself for, once again, waiting until the last minute to complete my school-work. Hoping the assignment at hand wouldn’t take long, I settled into my normal spot on the loveseat. I had just gotten comfortable when I heard the familiar ping on my cell phone notifying me that I had a message waiting for me on Facebook. I tried to fight the urge of social media, but after the second “ping”, I failed. I opened a new tab on my Google Chrome browser, and with one click, Facebook was loaded. Opening my messages, I expected to see another group message about some local event or a “hey what’s up” from an old friend but I was in for a surprise. Little did I know, I was opening the message that would change my life drastically. The message that I had waited sixteen years for.
A few moments had passed, and I was still staring at the computer screen wide-eyed with my mouth wide open. Emotions flew through me as I tried to make sense of the message I had just received. I was excited, nervous, scared, happy, all at the same time. If you name an emotion, I’m sure I felt it in those first few minutes. The screen went black as my computer went to sleep, causing me to finally blink. I woke my laptop with a few rapid strokes on the keypad, and without hesitation, I started my response to the man on my birth certificate.
It had been sixteen years since he had made the decision to step out of my life. My mother had tried to explain to me that, although he was the man on my birth certificate, he wasn’t my biological father. She told me that when she got remarried, he thought it would be confusing for me to have three father figures, so he, very reluctantly, walked away. I pretended to understand, and I acted like it didn’t bother me, but deep down I was always curious. I secretly hoped that one day I would get the chance to talk to the man whose name I claimed.
My response to his first message was followed up almost immediately. My heart was racing, and my hands were trembling from the emotions streaking through me. I took my time responding to this message, wanting to say just the right thing. I wondered what he was thinking and feeling, but mostly what his intentions were. Every message that I sent was replied to before I even had a chance to think, and the conversation came almost naturally. It wasn’t long into our