"Father"

Daddy you are like Baloo and I am like Mowgly!
Then he hugged me tight, as I read his favorite book.
I sit here thinking, why. Why are these memories of my father reading my favorite story not real? Have I forgotten them? Will my son also forget?
I am not so sure that I have forgotten .Those memories are not present simply because they do not exist .I have few memories of my child hood. Some are happy but most are sad .I remember times with friends, playing outside and feeling free. I remember times of sorrow, a drunken father a mother in tears and a house full of shattered dreams. I remember the floods, which ravaged our lives in the low-lying area, where our little rented house sat. Flooding was part of our meager existence. I remember neighbors taking me in their arms away from the dangers of the rushing water. I remember my little bunny floating on the surface of the lake. To a child that's what it was. A lake, in our back yard, transformed by the constant tears from Mother Nature’s eyes. Perhaps she cried for me, I could not cry, a man does not cry! However, I was only a boy. A block wall separated our house from the meat processing plant. Only about three meters apart. The stench of death and the whimpering of the beasts was a constant reminder of who we were and what we were, poor!
That was our back yard a concrete cavern. Every time it rained our cement yard would turn into a cest pool of blight. This was my child hood, was it a dream or just one more nightmare? It is the only memory I have, so it must be real. Grandparents I never knew. Both failed marriages,grandmothers dying alone, booze were my grand fathers only solace and my father’s only friend. My mother worked day and night. My father, in and out of work, hardship was the only common ground in our little community. I wish I could remember when my dad lay next to me in my bed, I wish I could remember his loving arms around me as I fell asleep.
I wish, I wish! Wishing is for fools, dreaming is for a child. I have no more dreams. I only have my memories. I wish I could forget. I wish I had kept it all behind the barricade I created long ago. I wish, I wish! Wishing is for fools!