I just had a really strong, strange visceral reaction to the way the sun light was hitting a wall in my room.

It reminded me of the apartment my father used to live in when I was a kid. He moved around a lot actually so this was one of the apartments he lived in. It was off of a busy expressway in Santa Clara, CA and sat stop a Walgreens. He had minimal furniture. We slept on the pull out bed in his couch. His dining room was empty. His spare bedroom was empty. Actually, now that I think about it I am pretty sure the couch was also his bed and on the weekends that he had custody of us, he would sleep on the carpeted floor. My Mom used to joke and say that he moved around so often because he couldn’t even commit to a lease…

I remember once I found his stash of Playboy magazines under a cupboard in his hallway. I was amazed, and it became a game for me. Whenever he’d go to the bathroom or to take the trash out, I’d hurry to the cupboard and sneak a peek. I’d flip through the pages quickly before he came out and caught me. I was an odd kid.

The only time my father ever showed any emotion around my sister, brother and I was in that apartment. For some strange reason, he called each of us over to him one by one, hugged us and said “I love you.”

As is typical in my family, this overt display of emotion and sentimentality is uncommon and I remember feeling awkward. That’s probably why I remember it. I don’t know why he felt the need to do the one thing we’d always needed him to do (love us), so suddenly, but he did. I think it was the day that my parent’s divorce was final? Maybe. I’ll never know.

Not sure why the way the light came into my room reminded me of that apartment or my father. But, like most things in my life these days I care less about why things happen and more that they just do.