Somebody claiming to be my father called me that day. I didn’t believe them at first, assuming it was some kind of sick joke to torment me, so I asked him to share a memory of me.
He sighed heavily saying he understood the concern behind my questioning. He didn’t hesitate when he gave an answer, his voice usually calm and relaxed, “I remember the day you found that frog down by the river. You named it ‘Sally.’”
My vision started to get blurry, and I felt a warm stream of tears rolling on my cheek, “Daddy… It’s really you!”