Journal Entry #2
June 22, 1995
The moon & stars and all of its mysterious wonders
“Last night I had the hardest time trying to go to sleep. I decided to go outside, and stare at the stars for a while. It was a little chilly outside, so I brought along my blanket. As I stood there on the deck, looking aimlessly into the sky, I noticed all of the glittering stars. They seemed so beautiful, but yet so delicate and untouchable. Then, I gazed toward a new direction. It was the moon, shining down on me. I gazed at it for a while, almost as if I wanted some sort of answer about the man that’s missing in my life. I was thinking about my real father. If only I could see him again. He’s only held me in his arms once, when I was a couple of months old. I try hard to remember what it was like that day, when he looked into my blue eyes, but I can’t. I know the moon and stars don’t have the answers I need, but they give me hope. Hope that I will see him again when the time is right, and he will hold me in his arms once more. The moon connects us both, because no matter where he is, that same moon is shining down on him too. I wonder what he thinks of the moon or if he even thinks of it at all. It watches all of us each night, and it reminds me of a guardian that’s always looking over your shoulder. Wherever you go – the moon will be there to guide you to that certain destination. My destination is to travel the long miles in search of my father. I know that someday I will find him, and we will be reunited. But, until then, I’ll spend my lonely nights with the moon and stars above.”
While writing a non-fiction memoir for a class at CWU, I actually found this old journal entry I had written.. still holding on to a story I was told about my real father when I was nine years old .. a story, and that is just what it was. Because, years later, I found out the truth about my real dad. My dad had actually held me in his arms on many occasions, my dad carried a picture of me at 16 months old, wearing a black velvet dress, white ruffled tights sitting in front of a miniature piano.. with a note on the back of the picture that read: “Daddy, Don’t forget to keep this in your wallet, ok? Love Always (“always” underlined twice) Heather XOXOXXOXOXX.”
Even now, as I look at this tattered picture kept in his wallet for so many years, and faded words.. it reminds me of his love. He never stopped believing I was his daughter .. He never stopped hoping that one day he would see me again .. and all that time, I was looking for a name: Bob Fast… a name that ended up meaning absolutely nothing .. but a name I obsessed over from the time I was nine years old. I remember the night I wrote that journal entry, almost feeling a little guilty, for not being happy with the life I had.
I know that my mom did the best she could – trying to find a father figure for me, I only wish that she would have focused less on a father figure and more on someone she could fall hopelessly in love with .. a best friend perhaps, someone who shared her same hopes & dreams..someone who would be so in love with her, that he would also love her daughter just the same, and treat her like a princess, his own daughter. The smallest act of a legal adoption – it would have meant so much, but that meant work, too much work for that matter .. but I guess in the end, my last name was never meant to be legally changed after all .. that last name “ELLIOTT” that really meant nothing to me, ended up meaning everything in the world to me. I have no regrets in finding you dad – in fact, I thank my lucky stars every night that I’ve found you!