Most of my memories about San Jose were painted in the rooms of AA. Growing up, both my biological parents and my legal guardian attended meetings all over San Jose. I remember, specifically, going to the Alano Club a lot as a really young kid. This short piece is about my first and last interaction with my father on the front steps of the Alano Club.
ON THESE STEPS
On these steps, I learned my worth.
Your words grasped tightly around my tiny mind.
“I’ll come see you again” you had said.
Cigarette smoke danced around
the stair railing, this sweet reunion would end
too soon. Yet my young mind would keep it fresh.
In this place, echoes of my biological mother bellowed
from the voices of old familiar friends. Though she had passed,
I was still “Gail’s girl” to them. And to you, I was your daughter
though no one ever mentioned you.
Big dark hands held mine, light in contrast.
Your face was a blur behind the overwhelming thought
of knowing you were my father.
“I’ll come see you again.” Did I imagine it all?
‘Cause years passed and you were gone.
Those rooms held the sweet swelling spirit of sobriety.
But your recovery was short lived.
I guess those rooms in San Jose couldn’t save you.
I suppose that place in East Side couldn’t keep my father.
Your words grasped tightly around my tiny mind.
“I’ll come see you again” you had said.
Cigarette smoke danced around
the stair railing, this sweet reunion would end
too soon. Yet my young mind would keep it fresh.
In this place, echoes of my biological mother bellowed
from the voices of old familiar friends. Though she had passed,
I was still “Gail’s girl” to them. And to you, I was your daughter
though no one ever mentioned you.
Big dark hands held mine, light in contrast.
Your face was a blur behind the overwhelming thought
of knowing you were my father.
“I’ll come see you again.” Did I imagine it all?
‘Cause years passed and you were gone.
Those rooms held the sweet swelling spirit of sobriety.
But your recovery was short lived.
I guess those rooms in San Jose couldn’t save you.
I suppose that place in East Side couldn’t keep my father.
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RIKKI LYNN VICK is currently majoring in Sociology at Santa Clara University and enjoys writing as a creative outlet. She spent the first half of her childhood in Downtown San Jose and hopes to be able to make San Jose her home base in the future.
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