Lapsus Memoriae

As he stared out over the water, he slipped into a daze. He remembered going to that lake as a young boy, maybe 5 or 6, with his father one weekend. He hadn't thought about that day in a long time, but no matter what he did, he was about to think about it now. He remembered getting out of the car in the late summer haze and walking down the dirt path to the lake with his father (it had yet to be paved at that point). When they got to the lake front, Lucas noticed a herring standing on a small bank in the middle of the lake. He pointed to it and tried to get his dad's attention, "Dad! Dad, look at the bird there, in the water!" He didn't know the name of the bird yet. His father however, didn't see it, no matter how much he looked for it. Lucas grew frustrated and gave up. Then, the herring took flight and headed to the other side of the bank. "Look Lucas, a herring," said his father. But Lucas didn't want to notice it, because it was his herring to see, not his father's.

As Lucas sat staring at the water with the twilight fading, he came to a sudden realization. His relationship with his father now was very influenced from that day. His father's obliviousness, and his own eagerness to entertain him, weren't compatible. They would never be compatible.

The awkwardness between the two of them led to a lack of attention on his father's part. Slowly Lucas began to feel like he, although he looked like his father, wasn't his son, but rather a person who was raised by him. This lack of attention led to Lucas's need for attention, and his immediate attraction to anyone who paid him any mind.

And that's why, today, he was anti-social and awkward. That day when he couldn't explain himself, when he couldn't convey his feelings, reflected the way he would act to this very day. Simply because that's how his father was, and that's how he learned to be.